


Carry On Winchester Girl

by SassyMcWinchester



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Additional Winchester, Brother-Sister Relationships, Gen, I do not own anything other than Emily, I figured i would put that in the tags so I don't have to keep writing it, Inspired by Supernatural (TV), Original Character(s), Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net, Sister-Insert, Supernatural was created by Eric Kripke, but yea i own nothing, i also have frequent writer's block, sisfic, supernatural rules, updates depend on what college does to me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-21
Updated: 2017-09-26
Packaged: 2018-02-22 02:38:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 15
Words: 133,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2491382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SassyMcWinchester/pseuds/SassyMcWinchester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If Mary Winchester died in 1983, then how is Emily Winchester born in 1996? Dean and Sam are perplexed, do they accept her as one of the family, or will they leave her by the wayside? More importantly, what about their father? While seeking their answers, Emily tags along with her brothers to complete missions and experience heartbreak and sadness. Her past ties and secrets cause them all to delve deeper, and the answers get even more confusing. Why do demons know her name? Who is the red eyed demon, and what does it have to do with the boys and their family? Perhaps the family business isn't worth the trouble of being bundled up in a predetermined mess...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Our Bloody Sister

**Lawrence, Kansas, 1983**

          Every soul is familiar with the story of the Winchesters. One night in November, Mary Winchester was killed. On this night, fire erupted through the small farm home and engulfed Mary’s body, almost engulfing the lives of her husband, John, and their sons, Sam and Dean. As fire erupted through the house, not every soul was put at peace in the fire, violent death or not. The lifespan of a soul begins in alarming ways. One soul’s egg was burned in the fire along with Mary’s body. Over the home of these innocent souls, a shooting star flew overhead, being washed out by the flashing lights of the fire trucks extinguishing the flames shrouding the Winchesters’ home. Dean, leaning against his father and holding his baby brother, looked up to the sky as the shooting star retreated into the heavens. Tears streamed down his face as he held Sam close to him. He looked to where the star was going, thinking he could still see it, and made a hopeful wish.

            “I wanted somebody to make it out alive…” he whispered into his brother.

            At this point, the star was long gone, as well as Sam’s ability to remain awake. Dean sat down against a car wheel and rested his head against the car itself. John continued to look at the house, as if in denial, slack-jawed, tears drying from his face. He could not rescue his wife. He could hardly rescue his boys. As his hands clenched into fists over and over again, he screamed at the sky, swearing death at the sky.

 

**Toledo, Ohio, Present day**

        Dean bit into the beefy patty of red meat and ketchup, lettuce leaves falling down his chin as Led Zeppelin played at a low volume on the radio. Tomatoes crunched between his teeth as he chewed obnoxiously, causing Sam to cringe slightly while sitting next to him in the Impala.

            “Dude, could you eat that a little slower? Or…neater?” Sam asked in disgust.

            Shaking his head, Dean replied, “No way. I’m not sure you understand the fact that _this_ ,” he shook the burger in front of Sam’s face, “is heaven. All right? Shut up and eat your salad.”

            The crunching continued while Sam looked out the window, looking through the window of the restaurant, whose parking lot they were stationed in. Attempting to keep his mind off the unnatural chewing sounds occurring to his left, his eyes pin-pointed a newspaper stand next to the entrance to the restaurant. Looking over to his brother, to hopefully get him to get on focus, he found that Dean was incapable of giving any attention to him or anything beyond the range of the burger. Sighing, Sam left the car to retrieve a newspaper. When the paper was in his hands, the headliner made him blink in surprise. He walked back to the Impala and slapped the paper on the windshield.

            “Dude. We’ve got a case. Here. Let’s go.” He tossed the paper through Dean’s window and got back in the car on his side.

            Dean groaned, sad that his journey with his burger must come to an end, tossing the food items back in the bag and tossing it into the back seat. He swallowed the chunk of meat that he was chewing, wiped his mouth on his jacket sleeve, and started the car. He pulled out and raced down the road with Sam’s direction.

            “All right Sam, what’d you get?” Dean asked, keeping his eyes on the road.

            “A man’s eyeballs exploded.”

            A short silence, then Dean looked at Sam. “Come again?”

            “His eyes exploded. Found dead by his daughter in the bathroom, lying in a pool of his own blood.” Sam explained.

            “And you think this is us?”

            “No break-ins, only the daughter’s friends were there, they reported nothing fishy. So this is us.” Sam crossed his arms.

            A silence continued for several miles, with various sighs coming from Sam’s mouth. Dean turned up the radio, hoping to ease the tension beginning to float around in the car. The Impala continued to race down a straight road, surrounded by corn, for miles, until there was a sign for a city limits. Dean slowed down to a slow 40 miles per hour and looked over at his brother.

            “Come on, Sammy. What’s on your mind?” he attempted to give a half-smile.

            “Dad. And mom.” He looked down to his lap and cracked his knuckles.

            Dean didn’t say anything on account of the fact that they were entering the town, according to Sam and the paper’s article. Sam didn’t help in finding a motel to crash at, he only loomed in his thoughts for the remainder of the ride. Once the motel was found, Sam stayed in the car while Dean took his false credit card in with him to pay for a room. As he walked through the front door, a little bell chimed, signaling his arrival to the management. A young woman sat up and greeted him, taking his card.

            “Uh, yea, just for a week. Me and my brother, two queens.” He scratched his nose while he looked around the motel lobby.

            The woman smiled and handed Dean his card back. “Well, it looks like I’ll have three guests checking in in one day!” she suddenly stopped, frowned, and examined Dean’s face.

            Dean blinked and shook his head, scrunching his face in confusion. “What?”

            “You look familiar. Like I’ve seen your face somewhere before. I can’t quite…”

            “That’s odd; I’ve never been around these parts before. Maybe it’s just—’’

            “A girl did check in earlier. Do you have family?” she cut him off.

            Swallowing, Dean shook his head. “No. Just…just me and my brother.” He nodded and left the lobby, returning to Sam outside.

            “Hey. What’s up?” Sam asked, holding a bag over his shoulder.

            “That chick at the front desk thought I looked familiar. Weird.” He got his own bag from the trunk.

            Sam looked to the far left of the parking lot to see a gray ford truck, a type of car a teenager would drive like a hand-me-down from their parents. It was scraped and banged up in areas, the windows were tinted and there seemed to be trash in the front seat, as he could see through a cracked open window. It was only a burger wrapper and a soft-drink, pink lemonade in a bottle. Sam shrugged and followed Dean to the motel. Sam stopped when he saw the flutter of curtains in his peripheral vision. He looked to a corner room of the building, only to see the still-swaying curtains and nothing beyond them.

 

**Motel Room 302**

            The curtain was still swaying. Backing away from it slowly, she began to think of ways to not interact with them, to not draw attention to herself. She picked up her laptop from the table with one hand and turned a lamp on in the corner of the room. The start-up screen read “Hello Emily”. She curled up on the couch and scrolled through various websites, taking notes on information she found. She heard rustling as the two men settled into their room. She didn’t bother getting up; she just took her socks off and threw them near her boots, next to a zebra-print backpack. She wore a comfortable flannel shirt, black camisole underneath with dark navy jeans. The flannel was red and blue, the earrings matched, which were lightning bolts. She kept moving her hair out of her face as it kept falling into her vision. Eventually she just tied it back loosely.

            “Twenty minutes in this motel and they aren’t even talking.” She mumbled to herself.

            She closed the lid of the laptop and stood up; she pressed her ear against her door, just in case she would be able to hear them from three rooms over. Nothing, just the vibrating mattress, which gave her goose bumps when she used her own, every room had one. Finally one of them began to talk.

            “Dean, the case? Should we go to the victim’s house or are you gonna lounge in your bed all day?” they said, annoyed.

            “In a minute, just let the quarter finish its course.”

            The bed stopped its vibrating once he said that, which made her laugh against the paneling of the door.

            “Okay, let’s go…” the one who was Dean groaned sadly.

            Their door clicked open, which caused her to rush to her boots to put them and the socks back on. Their talking was heard until they tromped down the steps to the lobby. When she couldn’t hear them anymore, her hand rested on the door handle.

            _Should I follow them first?_

            With that thought, she remembered the case.

            “Oh, _FUCK._ ”

            She rushed to her backpack and fished out her suit and fake badge. She threw the suit on and put her black heels on, putting her badge in her pocket and keeping her hair up, only making it tighter. She grabbed her keys and left her room, running down the hall and down the steps.

            “They’re here for the same reason I am, god damn it!” she yelled at herself as she ran out the lobby door and into her car.

            She started the engine and pulled out into the road, steering hard and jerky as she went around corners. After several miles, she saw the home coming up on her right, the property surrounded by cars and people, not of police origin. She found a nearby alley and parked her car there. Fixing her appearance one last time, she smiled and started walking. As she neared the home, she looked around for the black Impala. It wasn’t there yet, which would give her some time to scope out her case first. She rang the doorbell and stood up straight, creasing her mouth into a frown. A woman with a black pixie-cut answered the door, wearing all black with black jewelry. Obviously, the family had been returning from a funeral service.

            “Can I help you?” she asked.

            “Yes, hi, I’m Agent Weathers, FBI. I’m here about the death that happened here.” Emily showed the girl her ‘badge’.

            “Since when does the FBI care about a stroke?”

            “I’m only here to ask a few routine questions, a type of therapy. You know what I mean?” she improvised.

            A short silence was followed by “How old are you?”

            “Twenty-three.” She lied through her teeth.

            The girl held the door open for Emily to step inside, also mumbling “Jesus, she looks seventeen….”

            An internal scream, _I AM SEVENTEEN HOW COULD YOU LIE_ , came from the back of Emily’s skull as she walked into the home. There were mirrors on at least every wall. The girl led Emily to the back yard, where a large amount of people were talking to each other in small groups, all wearing funeral garb. Several people at a time looked at her with odd looks, but Emily kept walking. She walked up to a little girl, a blonde, and the pixie-cut who led her outside.

            “Now what are these…questions?”

            The girl was Donna Shoemaker, the daughter of the man who’s eyes exploded. The little girl was Lily, who had the sleepover. Questions rallied out of Emily’s mouth as she made notes. She only stopped asking questions when Lily mentioned the game at the sleepover.

            “What game?” she asked Lily.

            “Bloody Mary! My friends made me say her name three times in front of the bathroom mirror! This is my fault!”

            Emily heard the sound of a gas-guzzling engine pull in front of the house. Following the stop of the engine were two door slams. Emily had to think quickly if she didn’t want to be noticed.

            “May I see the location of death?” she asked Donna.

            Donna nodded and led Emily back into the house and up the stairs. The bathroom was down the hall and to the right. After Donna proceeded to answer the door a second time, Emily took a chance and peered through the railing of the stairs. The men from the motel were standing in the living room. They were wearing their dirty jackets and jeans, no sign of professionalism at all. She rolled her eyes as Donna led them out into the yard. Acting quickly, Emily ran into the bathroom, ignoring the blood that stained the floor tiles. She looked into the mirror and saw no signs of scratching or struggle. She took a picture on her phone of the mirror, along with several of the blood stains on the floor. She scuffed the floor with her heel, the blood was really stained on there. She heard footsteps, there was no way out except for the door and a locked window. She took her chances with the window. Using her heels as extra support to cram the lock open, she broke the heel bit in the process. The talking was getting closer, along with the footsteps. She pried the window open enough for her to shimmy out. Because she was crawling out head first, without thinking, she had to use her ab and leg muscles to prevent her from falling head first. She managed to grab hold of a shingle that stuck out from the house and swung herself down, slamming her back against the house in result. She also twisted her shoulder in the process, causing her arm to have to hold more weight than the other. She kicked her heel off, the other being dropped after the window opened, and prepared to drop to the ground.

            “Oh god, why’s the window open?” she heard the tall one say.

            The window closed, and she dropped to the ground to get her information back to the car.

 

**The Library**

        “Sam, would you stop playing with that piece of shoe?” Dean asked with a book in his hands.

            Sam was holding the broken heel bit found in the Shoemakers’ bathroom. He kept turning it in his hands to examine it, when he should have been holding the same research Dean was holding. After their chat with Donna, Lily, and her friend, Dean offered to him to sneak up to the bathroom. Not only was the window open, but there was a piece of shoe lying on the floor next to it. Dean snapped his fingers in front of Sam’s face.

            “Come on. This Bloody Mary stuff won’t research itself.” Dean tossed a book in front of Sam.

            Sam put the shoe bit in his pocket and picked up the book.

            “Hey Dean.”

            “Yea?”

            “I think someone was at the case before us.”

            Dean looked up from the book. “You serious?”

            Sam nodded.

            “Well, how do you know?”

            “There was blood from the site on the heel bit. And a high heel shoe was in the lawn as we were leaving.” Sam felt the urge to take the shoe bit from his pocket.

            “There were a lot of women at the house. Probably a coincidence.”

            Sam tried to open the book to read, but the situation kept itching at him. He took a look around the library. He only saw a few people, one had her ipod in and was sitting at a laptop, chewing gum. The rest were browsing books. He sighed and read a couple pages. Bloody Mary was known for scratching the eyes out of anyone who said her name three times. Shoemaker had showed up in front of the mirror after Lily said it, and his eyes had been torn out. The fact that children hadn’t been affected by this game anywhere else was confusing to him. He kept rerunning the scene in his head as he tried to read.

            “The gray truck from the motel…” he mumbled.

            “The what now?” Dean asked, now annoyed with Sam’s interruptions.

            “It was parked in an alley that was close to the house.” Sam continued.

            “So what?”

            Sam bit his tongue and dismissed the subject. He continued to read until he found an image of a mirror, crudely drawn by the book’s author. He shook Dean’s arm and showed him the image.

            “This was the area where Mary was murdered. Maybe something involving these mirrors is a connection.”

            Dean looked at him with furrowed eyebrows. “You dummy, haven’t you heard the legend? Of course the mirrors are connected!” he swatted the book away.

            Sam sighed and massaged his forehead. Dean rolled his eyes and leaned forward, trying to gain eye contact with him. “Hey. What’s goin’ on with you, Sam?”

            Sam shook his head. “Nothin’, Dean.”

            The girl with the laptop closed it and got up. She gave Dean a quick look and walked to another section of the library. Dean smacked Sam with a book, causing Sam to blink and smack Dean back. They proceeded with a slap fight, Dean shielding himself with a book from their large stack of them. Sam hid under the table.

            “Bitch.”

            “Jerk.”

            As Sam attempted to get out from under the table, he bumped his head and grunted, Dean’s smile spreading across his face.

            “You think that’s funny?” Sam smiled at his brother.

            Sam’s smile was interrupted by the clicking of computer keys. He looked across the library near the entrance, to see the girl with the laptop and the flannel shirt. He gestured at Dean. He turned around in his chair as the girl snapped a picture of their Impala on her phone. She closed her laptop again and swiftly left through the doors.

            “Sam, did she just snap a photo of Baby?”

            “Yea.” Sam swallowed.

            Dean bolted from his chair and ran toward the doors. Sam was dodging bookshelves and chairs and watched his brother go out the door first. Sam followed him and saw the gray truck pull out of the parking lot just as he burst through the doors.

            “She’s heading for the motel, Sam!” Dean shouted, getting into the Impala.

            Sam ran to the car door and slid in his side. Dean backed up in the lot and sped out of the lot. Tires screeching around corners, they kept in pursuit of the gray car back to the motel.

            “Dean, we can’t ambush her. I have a different idea.” Sam said while looking at the darkening sky.

 

**Motel**

            Emily tossed her laptop on the couch, careful to not break it. She kept part of the curtain open so she could see when the two of them would return. No sign of the Impala yet, so she took charge and left her room. Their room was only two down the hall from her. She took a bobby pin from her pocket and began fiddling with their lock. When the lock finally clicked, she snuck into the room, closing the door behind her. On one bed was a duffel bag and a pistol, a laptop was on the other. She crept around, looking inside the bag to see guns and knives. A cross or two were on the bottom of the bag, and a vile of salt was in there. A gun cocked behind her head. Her heart stopped for a second before it beat rapidly again.

            “Listen there, sweetheart. You got two seconds to show your face and tell me what’s goin’ on here.”

            Emily, by natural reaction, slowly raised her hands and turned around to face her attacker. He was taller than her, green denim jacket and jeans. It was one of the men from the Impala, and from the case. He was glaring at her with the gun pointed to her forehead now. His glare faltered when she was looking into his deep, green eyes. A surprised look flashed through his eyes but it faded quickly, resuming his threatening glare into her.

            “Tell me who you are.” He asked her again.

            “Well, I suppose I could tell you.” She smiled.

            His glare deepened. With a swift punch to the shoulder, she was able to grab and twist his elbow, disarming him of the gun. She swept her foot under his while he was in shock. A force came from behind her when he hit the floor, careening her into the wall, head bouncing off the drywall. When she hit the ground, a tall man attempted to stomp on her, or at least to press his foot into her to keep her still. She dodged and rolled across the room until she hit another wall. Her foot caught with a table as she tried to run to the bedside table for the lamp. She tripped and bounced off the corner of the bed, once again on the ground. She couldn’t get up this time, for a giant hand grabbed the front of her camisole, thrusting her upward and onto the wall. Struggling was useless, his grip was too strong. So strong in fact, she had some difficulties breathing. The other man stood up.

            “I told you, and now I’m asking again! Who are you?!” he pointed his gun at her, past the taller man.

            “Dean, she’s a teenager. Put your gun away.”

            “Like hell! She’s been snooping around our stuff like a rodent!” he shouted.

            “I prefer cat, thanks.” She chimed in.

            “Shut up.” The taller one growled.

            She shrugged.

            “Now then, what’s your name?” the tall one asked.

            “Emily.”

            “Was that so hard? I’m Sam. This is Dean.” He was trying to be calm, reasoning.

            “A first name isn’t enough, kid.” He still refused to holster his gun.

            She sighed. “I’m a hunter. Emily Winchester.”

            Sam and Dean’s eyes widened. Sam’s grip tightened on her and she winced. Dean definitely didn’t feel like holstering the gun now. Sam pursed his lips, a crazy look in his eyes.

            “ _Winchester?_ ” he asked.

            “Yea. What about it?” the look of pain was still on her face.

            Sam lowered her and dragged her out their door. She started screaming and Sam lifted her, put his hand over her mouth, and glared very threateningly.

            “Where’s your room?” Dean asked aggressively.

            Emily mumbled ‘302’ through Sam’s hand. Dean kicked the door in and gestured for Sam to follow. She was being half-drug, half-carried to her room which, from the sound of it, Dean was now destroying. She began to try to pry Sam’s hand off her mouth when she was flung into her own wall. Dean ripped the phone cord from the wall and tied her hands up. Sam went directly to the laptop she left on the couch. Dean walked over to her and felt her pockets and shoes, finding a knife in her rear pocket. The hope left her face, not just because of her means of escape being stolen, but because she remembered she didn’t lock her laptop before she attempted her snooping. Sam began searching her files while Dean looked through her backpack. A look of dismay went across his face as he looked through her various ID cards and credit cards.

            “She’s a hunter all right.” Dean confirmed, tossing the cards away from him.

            “Why you so depressed about that?” Emily challenged.

            “Shut it, we’re snooping through _your_ stuff now.” Dean challenged back.

            She rolled her eyes and watched them root through her personal information. She looked at Sam, who seemed to be having a casual time going through her laptop.

            “Dean. This is the one from the case.”

            “You’re working our case?” Dean looked at her again.

            “More like you’re working my case. I got in this morning, you came after me.” She scowled at him.

            Sam covered his mouth with one hand as he kept scrolling. His eyes lit up when he got to, she assumed, her folder password.

            “Bet you can’t crack it.” She teased.

            She heard the ‘ding’ as the folder allowed Sam into it. She frowned and slumped on the floor in defeat. Any personal information about her was in that folder.

            “Dean, she’s the real deal. Emily Winchester, born December 26th, 1996. She even looks it. Seventeen.” He looked up from the screen. “Why do you have personal info about yourself on your laptop?”

            “In case my memory fails. Amnesia. It’s happened once on my first mission, I was ten. I had no idea, where I was or who I was. I lost it, but I found my information thanks to a stranger in the woods.”

            They both looked at her strangely. “And you believed him? A stranger in the woods?” Dean shook his head with disappointment. “Kids.”

            “It all checked out. Police even printed me. It was legit.”

            Sam closed the lid. “You’re…a Winchester.”

            “Yes…again, so what?”

            They looked at each other. Sam spoke. “I’m Sam Winchester. This is my older brother, Dean Winchester.” He spoke slowly.

            Her eyebrows furrowed. Dean let her stand and they walked to a mirror. They both looked in it at the same time. The resemblance was uncanny. Same face, same green eyes. Same color hair, hers being a little lighter shade of brown than Dean’s. The only difference was that she had freckles and they didn’t. She had full lips, just like Sam’s. Same broad shoulders as both of them. They still kept her hands tied up, but sat her down on the couch.

            “Sam. A minute alone please?” he asked his brother.

            They both stood up from the couch and proceeded to her bedroom. Dean made a noise of awe when he saw the vibrating bed. “Man, these are everywhere…”

            Sam gave him a look. “Dude, focus.”

            “Right. Mystery girl saying she’s a Winchester. Creepy.”

            “More like impossible. Mom was dead and we would have noticed a younger sibling in our lives at the point she could have been…made.”

            “You think it’s a monster deal?” Dean contemplated.

            “I’m thinkin’ the same monster that killed mom.” Sam looked in at her while she was trying to lick the tip of her nose.

            He looked back at Dean, seeing he was trying to do the same thing. Sam’s face read the loss of hope in his brother, as his family history was collapsing in on him. Dean looked at Sam and stopped.

            “I wanted to try it…” he mumbled.

            “If you think I’m some type of monster spawn, go ahead and test me. Gimme your best shot. I’m allergic to nickel though, it’s pesky.” She remarked from the other room.

            Sam and Dean looked at each other. Dean took his knife from his pocket and took it to Emily. She looked up at him, clearly not giving a shit at the moment whether she got cut or not. Her face was bloody anyway, and her hair was straggly. Her laptop and hotel room were just ramsacked, so whether she got tested or not was unimportant at this point. He cut her forearm, she winced, but she watched the blood trickle out and eventually raised an eyebrow. He splashed salt on her next. With no reaction, he proceeded to holy water. She gave a smile of annoyance as the water fell down her face. Her eyes were squeezed shut as she shook her face off.

            “Sam,” Dean said with a kind of relief, “she’s the real deal.”

            Sam walked in and stopped next to Dean, and in front of her.

            “Does this mean you’re…my brothers?” she was trying not to get sentimental.

            “I guess so.” Sam nodded, looking at Dean, who also nodded.

            Dean cut the cord around her wrists and let her stretch. The mood in the air was, obviously, awkward. No hugs, just awkward smiles between them.

            “Oh. Uh. We kinda…trashed your car.” Dean smiled.

            Emily’s jaw dropped and her face filled with dismay. “My car?!”

            They both shrugged. She moped and slumped on the couch. Dean kept clearing his throat until Sam, annoyed, broke the silence.

            “If you’re our sister, there are some things you should know.”

            They sat down next to her and explained the night their mother was killed. Dean running with Sam out of the nursery, their dad not being able to save her. The house on fire, and eventually, their life. How they became hunters. Emily followed along with the story, eyes sad from start to finish, stomach also growling and ruining the somewhat tender moment they were having. Dean’s also growled, and Sam looked at him with a bitchy look in his eyes.

            “What? I’m hungry too.”

            “Great role model, Dean. Great job.” Sam looked to her again. “You follow?”

            She nodded. “But…if your mom is dead…how am I here?”

            “We have no idea.” Dean smiled and patted her knee. “But let’s cut the mushy crap. You have information we need to finish this case. We’re gonna need that.”

            “Dean, I think you’re missing the point here. We just met our _sister_ , and you’re worried on this case?” Sam stood and narrowed his eyes.

            “The faster we gank this thing, the faster Catwoman can meet her dad.” He stood up too.

            With the name ‘Catwoman’, Emily smiled wide. She stood up with them and went back to their room to discuss information, leaving the tattered room behind.

 

**The Impala, The next day**

        “This. Car. Rocks!” Emily exclaimed upon getting in.

            “See? Sam? It rocks. She is our sister.” Dean smiled as he sat in the driver’s seat.

            Sam rolled his eyes and sat in the passenger seat. Emily took out a notebook and began reading them directions to the home of the friend from the funeral party. Sam had a missed call, from her. The voicemail was static, so their first priority was to get to her house for information. Emily looked out the window for some of the ride. It was only the beginning of the average school day, so it was odd that the girl would be out of school at this time of day. She smiled to herself, she never learned that girl’s name. She looked too blonde to be trusted…not that all blondes were trusted, but she would probably ruin the investigation.

            “Hey. You alive back there?” she heard Dean ask.

            She nodded at his eyes in the rearview mirror, and he nodded back. “You didn’t sleep, did you?”

            She shook her head. “I wanted to research some more…”

            “See? Dean? She likes research. She is our sister.” Sam smirked.

            Emily laughed as Dean slapped his arm. When they approached the home, she sat on the edge of her seat. Dean and Sam got out first and she followed them. Dean turned around to look at her.

            “I don’t care how trained you are, if there’s trouble, you’re out and you let us handle this.”

            Slightly insulted, she nodded and let him have a big brother moment.

            “There’s a car in the driveway. Hers?” Sam asked.

            Dean tugged on Sam’s sleeve. When Sam looked over at him, he was pointing to the side of the house. Emily was attempting to climb up what must have been to the bedroom window. Via, of course, the side of the house.

            “What are you doing?!” Dean whisper-shouted.

            Emily knocked at the window, a scream from another girl followed it. She called down to them “Yea, she’s in there.”

            Dean looked at Sam with bugged out eyes. “She’s insane.”

            Sam nodded. “Yea.”

           

            When Emily was let into the bedroom, a girl was curled up and sobbing, an absolute wreck. Sam and Dean came in the boring way: through the front door. Sam and Dean gave her a look, one that read they could handle this. She stood back and let them handle the situation. Sam began taking mirrors down and covering them up with sheets. She tried to help, but Dean told her to stay put. She pouted. Sam missed the mirror in the bathroom, so she wandered in. She removed the mirror, but stopped placing it on the ground when she saw an inscription on the back.

            “Hey guys, I think I found something.” She said, hoping they would walk in.

            “What’s up?” Asked Dean when he walked in.

            There was a name written on the back of the mirror. As Emily and Dean inspected it, Sam uncovered the truth. The blonde girl’s boyfriend had told her to stay with him, or else he’d kill himself. She left because of an emotional matter, and he did it. She felt incredibly guilty. Donna had said “Bloody Mary” in the mirror while she was in the room with her, and now Bloody Mary was after her. Sam stood there, putting pieces of the puzzle together in his head.

            “Mary was murdered and left behind guilt. So now, she kills the people for the guilt they keep in their minds. Her mirror must be here, in town.” He concluded.

            “Way ahead of you, Sam.” She pulled out her phone.

            Dean looked at Sam. “You didn’t check her phone?”

            Sam gave Dean a look of disgust. Dean put his hands up in defeat as she showed them her phone. There was a location and a map, along with a picture of the mirror. Sam nodded and instructed the other girl to stay put and not to look in any reflections. She nodded and they made their way back out of the house the boring way, the front door.

 

**Antique store, 11:00 pm**

        Sam was fiddling with the locked door in the back of a local antique store. Emily kept watch behind Dean, who had his gun out and ready to fire. The lock clicked and they were in. Sam led the way, putting his lock-pick away and un-holstering his gun. There were mirrors everywhere. Emily closed the door and walked in behind them, stopping when she too saw the array of mirrors.

            “Shit.” She spoke first.

            “Sam, we have to destroy that mirror.” Dean continued.

            “All right, start breaking mirrors.” Sam grabbed a piece of metal that was just lying in the storehouse.

            “YES. Let’s fuck shit up.” She grabbed a blunt object.

            Dean gave Sam an approving look. Sam didn’t chuckle, he only responded with a smash of glass. After only five minutes, there were police sirens blaring down the street.

            “An alarm?” Dean woed.

            “Go Dean, me and Emily can handle this!”

            Dean left out the door and holstered the gun. After the door slammed, Sam lowered his object. Emily broke another mirror when she saw a reflection graze across another mirror in her peripheral vision. She turned and saw Sam standing in front of a mirror, his lips moving.

            “Sam?” she lowered her object as well.

            She caught the name for after his third time saying it. The reflection moved quickly to the front mirror, the one Sam was standing in front of.

            “Sam?!” she ran at him, but a mirror shattered in her way. She was forced to stop.

            Mary took on a different form. She became taller and her black hair changed to curly and blonde. Flames burst and swarmed all around her and she began to scream.”

            “WHY DIDN’T YOU WARN ME, SAM?! THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT! YOU KILLED ME, SAM! YOU MADE ME BURN!”

            “Jessica, no…” Sam whispered.

            The girl, apparently Jessica, stepped out of the mirror, making Sam’s eyes bleed.

            “Sam!” she desperately searched for ‘Jessica’s’ mirror.

            She found a different mirror. With it, she ran to Sam. But before she could hold up the mirror to ‘Jessica’, she changed form again. This time, a boy with black hair and green eyes. She froze as the blood trickled from her eyes. Clutching the mirror tightly with both hands, she screamed and showed him the mirror. When the reflection caught, Mary resorted back to her original form. Sam and Emily were coughing, frozen, unable to move along with Mary. The door slammed as Dean ran in.

            _“You didn’t do your job. You killed me. Left me for dead.”_  The voice ran through her head, also Jessica’s running through Sam’s.

            All of a sudden Dean flew by with a crowbar, shouting at the top of his lungs. Glass shattered behind her and Sam, which ceased the blood flow. Mary’s form began to crack, and she crumbled to dust before them. Emily passed out and fell on the floor, and dropped the mirror that helped bring the end to Mary. Sam shook his head and sat up, wiping the blood off his face. Dean threw the crowbar away from him, leaving the frame from Mary’s original mirror behind. He rushed to Sam first, who just looked around him at all the shattered glass and the heap of his sister next to him.

            “Sam, what the hell happened?!” Dean shouted.

            Sam was very calm. “I summoned Mary.”

            Dean sighed and helped Sam up off the floor. They both looked down at Emily, then back at each other.

            “We’ll ask questions later.” Dean told Sam.

            “How much later?” Sam picked her up and wiped the blood from her face.

            They walked out, police gone from the premises, Dean having shooed them off with talking.

            “Obviously not soon, Sam. But what about you? Was that to see Jess?” Dean opened the back door to the Impala.

            “…Yea.” Sam placed her on the back seat.

            “What aren’t you tellin’ me, Sam?” Dean looked at his brother

            Sam shook his head. “I could have warned her. That’s all.”

            Dean looked back to Emily. “And you could have warned her before you summoned that thing.”

            Sam nodded as Dean started the engine, driving back to the motel.


	2. Asylum Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The siblings travel to Rockford, Illinois, to investigate some happenings at a local asylum. On the hunt, Emily reveals some disturbing information about her past that show her brothers the background she grew up in without them. And in the climax of the hunt, Emily learns Sam's true feelings about her sudden appearance into the family. Unless it wasn't Sam talking at the time?

**Impala, early morning**

        The motel was far behind them and the car sat in the presence of a roadside diner. Sam sat in the car while Dean went to get some coffee and one hot chocolate for Emily, who was still passed out in the back seat. Sam continued to look back at her, she looked exhausted. Through that rough exterior she had while she was awake, it was completely taken away while she slept. There were bags under her eyes, her hair was messy and there were bruises on her hands and face. He didn’t notice that they were there before, when they first met.

            “You must be one of us.” He whispered, looking at her turn over.

            He thought back to the incident with the mirrors. She had dashed forward on impulse, not thinking about it before she acted. She’s still only a child. The kind of emotional toll seeing things like their guilts would cause her to just pass out. Especially considering the amount of sleep she didn’t get that night in the motel, at their meeting. It’s only been a day, and Sam felt like he was looking at a true Winchester.

            “Sammy?” Dean was tapping on the window with the beverages in a carrier.

            Sam unlocked the door and let him in. Dean handed him a coffee, then looked back at Emily, who was beginning to stir.

            “You alive?” Sam asked.

            Sitting up sloppily, she looked around the car and tried to get her bearings. She clasped the seat so she could balance, especially with all the hair in her face. She blinked.

            “I smell chocolate.” She declared, suddenly awake.

            The brothers looked at each other. Dean handed her back the hot chocolate, which was extremely hot and was steaming through the straw hole.

            “Did you get me the black, fancy coffee sipping straw?” she asked, comfortably warming her hands with the Styrofoam container.

            Dean handed her back one. “I had a feeling you might want it.”

            “Thanks.” She smiled and tiredly took the straw.

            They all sipped their beverages in silence, Dean looking out the windshield and Sam gazing out his window. Emily sipped her chocolate with her eyes closed, tapping a tune on her cup. She attempted to stretch her legs, but they ran into her backpack. Looking at the familiar zebra print, she smiled. Setting the cup into the side cup holder, she unzipped her bag and went through it. Everything was in there; her wallet, laptop, multiple pairs of clothing which included her suit, cell charger, and at the very bottom, a pink blankie. She hoped to God that they didn’t see that when they went through her things. She fished her phone from her pocket and threw it in the backpack, then re-zipped everything back up. She picked up her hot chocolate and resumed drinking. Finally, Dean started the engine and left the roadside diner. They continued to sip in silence until Dean suddenly broke it.

    “All right, time to pow-wow.” he looked back into the mirror again.

    “Dean.” Sam warned.

    “We’re all mature here. She can tell us what’s up.” Dean argued back.

    She swallowed a large gulp of hot chocolate. “You’re talking about Grant, aren’t you?”

    Sam glanced back in the mirror. “Grant?”

    She nodded. “He was a hunter. And a friend of mine.”

    Dean put his eyes back on the road, face serious. “Close friend?”

    She looked at her cup. “You could say that…”

Sam was still looking back in the mirror. “Is that who you saw in Bloody Mary?”

    She nodded. Seeing that Sam nodded too, she waited for Dean to say something. He didn’t, he was thinking about other things.

    “That’s enough. If it’s incredibly emotional, we don’t have to wear you out anymore. I’ll get you and Sam’s stories another time. Forget I asked.”

    The Impala continued to whizz down the road through the rest of the early morning. Emily watched Sam fall asleep in the passenger seat, clearly exhausted. It was about four in the morning, the sun was not yet rising, when Dean looked back at her again. She made eye-contact with him and he smirked.

    “So how was your first case with the Winchester boys?” he asked.

    “Honestly? It was fucking interesting.” she nodded.

There was a moment of hesitation before he spoke again. “You’re really interested in what Sam’s all about right now.”

She nodded.  

            So Dean told her the story about how Sam ran away to go to college. He met a girl named Jessica who was killed after their first case together, and, it was on the anniversary of their mother’s death. Emily listened while Dean talked about how devastated he’s been, he suspected Sam’s been having nightmares. This was who Emily saw when Bloody Mary transformed when Sam looked at her. It didn’t answer the question to why Sam saw her. What was he feeling guilt about?

            “He told me that he could have warned her. I don’t know what that’s supposed to mean, but I don’t like it.” He finished.

            Sam stirred in his seat, but he didn’t wake up yet. Emily sighed and tried to process all she went through the past day.

            “I’m sorry, Dean.” Was all she could come up with.

            “Why?”

            “Your life sucked at the sound of it. Mom’s dead, your dad ran out a lot on you guys, and Sam lost his girlfriend. I feel bad.” Her sad eyes met Dean’s serious ones through the mirror again.

            “It ain’t so bad. You’re a hunter yourself, you know the life.”

            She closed her eyes as her mind roared at her for sleep. _Not really, Dean…_

            The last thing she heard from Dean was “We’ll get to a motel soon.” before she dozed off.

 

**Motel, Somewhere USA**

Emily was shaken awake with the sound of Sam’s voice.

            “AH no GanONdorF…” she sputtered, putting emphasis on different letters.

            She blinked at Sam, who was giving her a look of confusion. “Uh.”

            “Nothing. Never mind.” She dismissed her sleep babble.

            She hopped out of the car, which was sitting in a motel parking lot. Dean was holding his bag and hers, holding it up for her to see. She grabbed it from him and grunted her sleep away. She also noticed that there were suits in Sam’s bag, which was clearly open, along with fake IDs. She smiled.

            _I gave them an idea._ She smirked and walked happily behind them through the front doors of the motel.

            When Dean reached the counter, a woman was there to give them a room. Instinctively, Dean said two Queens. Luckily for Emily’s standing behind Sam, the tallest being in the building, the woman did not catch her presence. Only when Dean turned around did he notice his mistake.

            “Dammit.” He rolled his eyes.

            She shrugged. She offered to get her own room, but the boys declined.

            “Not if we get a case, we’ll forget about you in the other room.” Dean admitted.

            The fact that he wasn’t lying was the scary part. They all walked to their room in silence, Sam looking at the random paintings on the walls. When they got to their room, Dean made a bee-line for the bedroom, Sam turning himself around from going in there. He grabbed Emily by the shoulder and escorted her right back out.

            “Give him alone time. Let’s get breakfast.”

            She didn’t say anything when Sam closed their door and kept walking. He continued to escort her out of the motel until he stopped.

            “I wasn’t asleep when Dean told you.” He remarked out of the blue.

            Her eyes grew sad and she bit her lip. “I’m sorry, Dean just told me and I WAS curious, but I should have poked you to see if you were awake but I didn’t and I’m a horrible human being…” she continued on her teenage worry-rant.

           Her facial expressions were equivalent to a cartoon character, eyes growing incredibly when sad and hand gestures flailing around her to try to prove how sorry she was.

    “What? No, it’s okay. I just wanted to get your...side of the story.” he walked to the car.

    “About Grant you mean?” she followed him.

    “Yea. Just, to know, what we’re getting into.” he started the engine.

    She got in and closed the passenger seat, which was extremely comfortable.

    “Grant and I were in the same colony. Like, hunting families. We called them our colony. Anyway, I was twelve when I joined him in his colony. He was thirteen, I remember he told me I was a gross girl on my first day.”

    They cruised down the street, Sam listening intently.

    She continued. “We got to be really close. When I turned fifteen, Grant asked me out on a date. We went to the arcade and got pizza, I got pepperoni and he got sausage with extra cheese. He sucked at Tetris.”

    Sam let out a chuckle. They saw a little diner and pulled in, Sam parking close to the door.

    As they were getting out, she kept going. “Then he proposed that we started our own team together, considering how much of a leader he was and how talented he was. He was so skilled with his arsenal, it was really hot.”

    Sam ordered breakfast to go; she asked for pancakes and sausage, in which he happily ordered as well. She described what Grant looked like while they waited for their food. Tall, black hair that was messy and short, and he had a cocky grin that brought out his green eyes. He wore a denim jacket all the time with references on T-shirts underneath it. His jeans were always ripped and his boots were scuffed up. The picture was coming into perspective in Sam’s head when the boxed order came to the counter.

    “One day,” she started again as they left the diner, “we were tracking a wendigo, which had slaughtered seven people in the area already.”

    They both got into the car. “We were coming up with a plan, to dismember the thing with silver. Grant was supposed to remain in the circle while I was the bait to trap it.”

    “How would you trap a Wendigo?” Sam interrupted.

    “Take it outside of its territory. If it doesn’t know the area, it can’t hunt as well and gets confused.” she explained.

    Sam nodded. “Alright. Go on.”

    “Anyway, I had three checkpoints. One I would walk to, sprint to, then hop on the motorcycle outside the territory and just keep going. It kept following me outside the territory until I reached the Anasazi circle.” As she went on, she helped her description with hand motions. “Grant...wasn’t in the circle…” her eyebrows creased together, trying to grasp the image. “Only I had brought my motorcycle, which was actually his, he stole it, but anyway, he wasn’t there. I had to improvise and loop around the circle, which was difficult because the mother fucker was gaining on me. I could literally feel the claws swipe at me, I was trying not to panic. As a plan B, I pulled my lighter out. The circle had branching designs I added with gasoline, just in case I _needed_ a plan B. I threw the lighter on the ground just as I saw him: Grant with a hunting rifle, right in front of my path. I swerved and took a roll, the cycle smashing my legs as it rolled with me. Grant shot, but he hesitated because he watched me fall. He _hesitated_...just enough...for the Wendigo to swipe him…” she gulped.

“Emily--” Sam tried to interrupt.

“The gun was flung out of his hands and he…he staggered back. I couldn’t stand up, so I had to try to crawl over to him. He was bleeding and made a run for the circle, why didn’t he stay in the fucking circle…”

Knowing that Sam could no longer attempt to stop her, he guiltily let her finish her story, even though they were back in the motel lot.

“There was so much blood, Sam…” her eyes were wide.

“You can do it, finish your story.” He looked through the windshield up at their room.

“He was grabbed by the ankle and was thrown farther away from the circle…and farther away from me…he looked up and his eyes filled with hope, because we locked our stares. I tried so hard…I really did… I kept trying to crawl at him. The Wendigo was taunting us, it moved at a fucking snail’s pace. I was finally able to take his hand, there was so much blood…all over his hands…his chest was…just ripped. I cried, but it was the type of crying that you don’t notice until the snot builds up in your nose enough to keep you from breathing. He let go of his chest and whipped the axe out…the silver axe…he stood up and ran. Ran right at it. The bravado he had left his face when the claws dismembered his head…and his body…just fell over…like a feather…”

Sam looked at her for a long time while the tears began to drip from her face. It was the type of crying that you don’t notice until the snot builds up in your nose enough to keep you from breathing. She saw Sam looking at her and she quickly wiped her face. Sniffing one last time, she smiled at him.

“At least he went down swingin’.”

Sam looked at her curiously as she took the breakfast into the motel, using the tough shell she created so well.

 

**Motel, Night**

“And yer tellin’ me this girl, our sister, survived a Wendigo attack?” Dean asked, sitting on his bed.

“That’s what she told me.” Sam nodded.

“How’d she get away?” Dean looked to the other side of the room; Emily was asleep on the sofa.

“Grant sent a distress signal when he went off the plan. Her colony arrived after the beheading.” Sam explained.

Dean exhaled a lot of air at one time. “Wow.”

Sam nodded. The clock read “11:45”, he let out a yawn. As Dean was turning the light off, there was a faint stir from the living room. He looked in to see her, lying on the couch very awkwardly, almost upside down. He smiled a little and covered up, the cotton fabric creating a cesspool of warmth all around him. He dozed off into sleep after thinking about almost nothing.

 

A vibration was going off faintly outside of Dean’s unconscious brain. His eyes popped open, he was only asleep for two hours. The vibrating wasn’t coming from the mattress, but from the bag next to his bed. He reached in it and grabbed his phone, the vibration stopping once he read that a message had been sent to him. He checked the message: a set of numbers were on the screen. Coordinates.

He shook Sam. “Hey, rise and shine.”

He groaned. “What’s up…?” he rubbed his eyes.

Dean tossed him the phone as he walked to the sofa. “Coordinates, from Dad.”

He shook Emily too. “Up and at ‘em.”

She sprung up like a daisy after winter time snow. “DEAN DON’T EAT THE CARROT.”

Dean opened his mouth to retaliate, but he didn’t even bother asking. He’d only known his sister for three days and he already knew it was better to not ask about what goes on in her noggin.

Sam was already dressed. “From Dad? Where do they go?”

Dean reached in his bag and pulled out a small journal, it was new to Emily. It was leather bound with a strap keeping it closed. Dean whipped it open and started going through the pages.

“Rockford, Illinois. There’s an asylum there. We gotta go.” He looked at Sam first.

Emily got whatever she had unpacked into her bag again and was ready to go. She looked at Sam, who had a very serious look in his eyes.

“And these coordinates were from dad?” she hesitated to ask.

They both looked at her. Dean didn’t answer, he only got his things together and left the room. She looked to Sam for guidance, but provided her with none. He left the room as well, only not in such a hurry anymore. Taking one last look around the room, she sighed and closed the door behind her as she made her way down to the Impala with her brothers.

 

**Rockford, Illinois**

“According to the news reports,” Sam started, “Officer Kelly shot his wife after a sweep down at the old asylum. Apparently some kids were sneaking around in there.”

They were all still in the Impala, only this time, all in suits and on their way to a pub. Dean was extremely serious, starting right after he received the message from dad. As she listened to Sam, she used her phone as a mirror to check her appearance. She puckered her lips and turned her head from side to side to check for any dirt or smudges. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, nice and clean, while Dean went with the ‘bad cop’ approach. Sam was elegantly professional, his tie tighter and shoes cleaner. It was obvious that they would make horrible FBI agents when it came to the information department, but they’d be damn good when it came to intimidation. As she batted her eyes one last time, the thought struck her that she was attending a legitimate mission sent by her dad.

 _My dad._  She shuddered a little, thinking that a guardian that was out in no man’s land was sending her orders. Or at least a location, which is orders enough. Her dad probably didn’t even know she was alive. She shrugged it off as Dean pulled in front of the pub they were looking for.

“Alright, now how do you do this?” he turned to look back at her.

“You ask him questions about the incident, try to be subtle and not too overbearing.” She furrowed her brows. She knew this wouldn’t turn out right.

Dean nodded in understanding and got out, Sam following. She came out and smoothened her clothing, watching as Dean plowed through the front door.

“Oh god.” She whispered to herself.

Dean walked back to the bar area, where Officer Gunderson was sitting, and sat next to him on a stool. As Emily walked through the front doors, she could intensely notice that the officer was uncomfortable, and she thought Sam could tell too.

“Hi, I’m with the Chicago Tribune, here to ask you some questions about the incident that happened with Officer Kelly.” He began abruptly.

The officer looked up from his beer and gave him a stern look. “If you want information, don’t be so rude about it. And besides, I’m not talking about it.”

“Listen, I know this is very troubling for you, but I need to do my job so if you could just—’’

Sam grabbed him and yanked him off the stool. “Dean. Go sit outside.”

“What?” Dean questioned.

“Outside.” Emily grabbed him by his collar and pulled on him.

Dean swore at her and kept looking angrily at Sam all the way out. Considering Emily was only as tall as his chest, her methods of escort were highly comical. Once they reached outside and the doors were firmly shut, she hit him in the arm.

“What did I do?!” he complained.

“You came on waaaaaaay too strong. You made him uncomfortable instantaneously, you didn’t even think to smile first.”

“So you had to _drag me by my collar?_ ” he gave her an unamused look.

She smiled and nodded. After a few minutes of moping, Sam came out and gave a thumbs up.

“What’d he say?” Dean stood up from leaning against the Impala.

“First of all, I apologized for your behavior.” Dean rolled his eyes. “But all in all, he said that Kelly was pretty straight-laced, he’d never commit murder. Or suicide. Happy guy, happy wife, happy life.”

Emily got in the Impala. “Does this mean we get to visit an asylum?”

“This means we get to visit an asylum.” Sam confirmed.

Her eyes lit up and she bounced up and down on the seats, later being scolded by Dean for doing so.

 

**Rockford Asylum, Mid-Afternoon**

    Outside, the condition of the asylum looked like the average abandoned building. There was graffiti covering the walls, the plants around the entrance dead and drooping. Sam, Dean, and Emily were equipped with flashlights, Emily being the only one excited about entering an asylum. Sam, as usual, looked at Dean with serious concern. They had known Emily for so little time, but she seemed too eccentric to be considered mentally sane. Perhaps she belonged here, but that was rude for a brother to think.

    “Why you so amped about going in this place?” Dean asked, breaking the new lock and chains on the set of doors.

    “I think if I go in, they might not let me back out.” she said with a smile on her face.

    “Ah.” replied Dean as he pushed the doors open.

    Emily, of course, walked in first, turning on her flashlight and scoping the main room. Overall, the asylum was creepy. There was red graffiti, again, on the walls and cobwebs dangling from the crevices of the ceiling. Dean and Sam pulled out their flashlights as well, taking a more cautious approach when scoping out with their light sources. Of the few doors, only one was able to be touched without Emily having to touch a spider or its web. The sign, after blowing the dust away, read ‘South Wing’. She peeked through the crack of the door, just seeing a long hallway. Dean took the door and pried it open completely, this is a different side of her he’s seen so far. She seemed too girly, she didn’t want to get her hands dirty on dust and cobwebs. Was she scared?

    “Dean, there’s something in dad’s journal about this.” Sam told him, walking past them and into the hallway.

    “Yea, shoot.” Dean looked around the floor with his flashlight.

    “Apparently, in 1972, three teenagers came into the asylum for a night. Only one of them lived.” Sam explained.

    “Spooky.” Dean made a face of unamusement.

    Emily was journeying down through the hallway until she stepped on a paper. Looking down, it was a torn, dusty sheet of paper that seemed to be an approval sheet for experiment supplies. She picked it up.

    “Hey, guys,” she called down to them. “I found a piece of paper, there’s a signature on it.”

    “What’s the name?” Sam asked.

    “Sanford...Ellicott.” she squinted while reading the cursive pen-writing.

    Sam looked at the journal. “His name’s in here, too. Sanford Ellicott, he was the chief of staff here. Apparently, there was an uproar of riots during his last day of working here, which was also when he was killed.”

    “Riots. That equals some mad spirits.” Dean clicked his light off.

    “So...where are they then?” Emily asked, pointing her flashlight around the hallway some more.

    “Spooks only come out at night.” confirmed Sam, closing the journal.

    Emily’s face read a mix of relief and frustration. She clicked her flashlight off and left the hallway, taking another look at the abandoned wheelchairs and IV poles that were left sitting there. She stopped and just stood there, looking and imagining the things that could have occurred in this asylum. Figments of her imagination included patients tied to beds, them crying out for help, even though treatment was supposed to be helping them. Dean called out to her, snapping her out of it.

            “Come on, we’ve got work to do.” He shouted.

            She jogged out of the asylum after Dean and the doors were slammed. She got into the Impala and buckled in, sitting up straight and looking forward. Dean got into the driver’s seat and started the engine.

            “Get this.” Sam said, looking at his phone. “Sanford had a son named James Ellicott, he’s a psychiatrist in town. Let’s check him out to see if he knows anything about the riots.”

            “Sounds good.” Dean sped away from the asylum and down the road per Sam’s directions.

            Emily continued to look ahead of her, thoughts racing about the asylum. Half of her couldn’t wait until the spirits came out, and the other half didn’t want to go back. As the car kept moving through town, they eventually came to a large building, one that held a small amount of offices inside, like dentists or optometrists. Dean and Sam left the vehicle, Emily remaining inside to think to herself.

            “Someone’s gotta get the information out of the guy.” Dean looked at Sam.

            “What? Why me?” Sam furrowed his brow.

            “Because Junior Mint in there isn’t feeling up to speed today. And you’re better at the sweet talking. We’ll wait here.” Dean tried to convince him with a smile.

            “Junior Mint?” Emily whispered to herself inside the car.

            Sam rolled his eyes and walked away from Dean and the Impala. Making his way through the front doors, he tried to think of a good story, some type of cover or fake emotions. He used the directories in the lobby to find Dr. Ellicott’s office. When he finally made his way there, he shyly opened the door to see nobody in the waiting room. He walked in, closed the door, and took a seat in one of the chairs. He tapped his fingers on the arms while he waited for somebody to come and get him. In this time, he used it to think, which was never a good idea for him to do. Dean was right, Emily wasn’t up to speed today. The asylum seemed to have create something inside her head, which is probably what happened to officer Kelly. His thoughts were interrupted when a door creaked open, a middle-aged man was waiting impatiently with reading glasses.

            “You may come in now.” He said, widening the gap of the door so Sam could enter.

            Sam stood up and entered Ellicott’s office. He closed the door behind him and sighed, pulling a small notepad out. He forced a smile on his face as he sat down in his chair across from Sam, who sat on a small couch.

            “What can I do for you, today?” he asked Sam.

            “Well Dr. Ellicott, I’ve just had to see someone, there’s so much stress piling on, you know?” he forced a look at Ellicott’s degree.

            “Stress, eh?” Ellicott wrote in his notebook.

            “Oh, now I know why your name is so familiar sounding! Your father, he was a uh, a scientist at the old asylum, right?” Sam smiled.

            Dr. Ellicott sighed and took his glasses off. “Yes. He was. Anyway, what about this stress you’ve been having…”

            “Sam.”

            “…Sam.” He put his glasses back on.

            “Well, you see, I’ve been on this road trip with my brother.” The words ‘and sister’ almost popped out, but he kept them in.

            “A road trip sounds fun, why would it be stressful?”

            Sam tried again. “I’m sorry, but I can’t help but think of your old man. Weren’t there riots at that asylum? What happened do you think?”

            Ellicott clicked his pen several times before placing it with the notebook down on his desk. He looked at Sam dead in the eyes.

            “Listen. You seem awfully preoccupied with this asylum business, but I have a job to do. If you tell me your feelings like you’re supposed to, I’ll tell you about the riots. How does that sound?”

            Sam blinked. He had no other choice but to wipe the looming sweat away and shake his head in agreement.

 

**Impala, Outside The Office**

            Dean was leaning against the Impala while Emily was sitting on the ground in a criss-cross form. Gray clouds started to form above them, and a breeze was beginning to pick up. It was the type of breeze that makes hair blow dramatically, as if in a ‘deep’ music video. They were silent. Birds sang silently in trees around them while they could hear cars on the roads all around, zooming over the asphalt and causing pebbles to dribble off into ditches.

            “If I weren’t a hunter, Dean, I’d be a psychologist.” Emily stated, looking at the sky.

            Dean looked at his sister, surprised at the sudden outburst. “Really?”

            She nodded. “Yup.”

            “Why?” Dean looked at the sky too.

            “I like to help people.” She squinted as the sun poked through the clouds for a few brief seconds.

            Dean crossed his arms. “But we help people this way, don’t we?”

            She interlocked her fingers and covered her eyes as a way of thinking. “I want to hear them, though. I want to hear their pain so I can make it go away.”

            Dean got the sudden realization that she was talking about Grant.

            “Hey…” he started.

            “Never mind me, Dean.” She turned her head his direction and smiled, her hands still over her eyes. “I’m just an emotional kid. Don’t think about me too hard, I’m okay. I promise.”

            She straightened up as she saw Sam walking towards them, hands in his coat pockets. He didn’t look very happy, his face was strained and he wasn’t making eye contact with either of them. She rocked back and forth daintily as she tried to make him uncomfortable, she demanded information, and to get it, she would act out accordingly. She gave him an innocent look, patient looking so he would feel bad and talk to her about what happened in the office.

            “What’d you get, Sam?” Dean asked, not making eye contact with Sam.

            Sam made his look at Emily, quickly looking away, regretting his decision to do so.

            “Yea, Sam. What’d you get?” she followed up.

            “According to the doc, in 1964, some of the heavy duty inmates rioted against the staff. All of them were in the south wing. Several of the bodies weren’t found, including Ellicott’s.”

            Emily jumped up. “So I guess we gotta go back and salt those assholes.” She opened the car door.

            “Time for a scavenger hunt.” Dean clapped his hands together and got into the driver’s seat.

            “Thanks, Sam.” She smiled as she put her seatbelt on.

            Sam looked at her in extreme confusion. “For what exactly?”

            “Being helpful.” Her smile faded and she narrowed her eyes. Had he never been thanked before?

            Sam climbed into the passenger seat, as usual, and buckled himself in. They all agreed to go back to the motel to gear up and get a game plan. As Dean revved the engine and sped away, Emily saw Sam give a quick glance back to Ellicott’s office. She bit her lower lip and crossed her leg atop the other. She looked back as well, seeing a faint shadow in the window disappear behind a curtain.

            “Sam, how’d you get him to talk?” she asked when Sam looked away.

            “I told him fake stories.” He replied.

            “About?” she glanced at Dean, who was trying to stay out of this.

            “The family, you know? I came up with normal family stuff to complain about in exchange for the info.” He looked at her threateningly through the rearview mirror.

            He knew that she knew he was lying. And she knew it, just by the way he just looked at her. Dean pulled into the motel lot and put the car in park, leaving it running. He got out and made them both follow, they all needed their own separate supplies, in case things got in a pinch. Their room was neat and organized, or at least Emily’s was, so gathering their arsenal was fast and easy. Dean was the fastest out of the room with his stuff, and Sam was about to follow when Emily stopped him. She flat-tired his shoes, causing him to trip, making him nearly face-plant into the parallel wall. As he struggled to get his shoes back on, she approached him slowly, backpack over her shoulder. Sam looked up at her while she looked down at him.

            “I allowed you to listen to my feelings, therefore I have a right to listen to yours. Whatever you said in there is able to be discussed with Dean and I too. We’re all in this together, Sam.”

Her eyes were pleading, she extended a hand out to him to help him up. He denied the offer by getting up himself. He walked away from her and out of the motel, leaving her to sigh and rub her forehead in a troubled state.

            Dean was prepared to honk the horn before he saw Sam scuttle out of the building annoyedly. When he got in, he slammed the door and threw his bag back into Emily’s usual spot.

            “Hey now, watch it. Apologize to Baby.” He warned, pointing his finger like a nagging adult.

            “I’m not apologizing to your stupid car, Dean.” He spat back as he crossed his arms and frowned like a toddler.

            Emily came about a minute later and climbed into the car, but not before she scooched Sam’s bag over to the other end of the seat. They made short eye-contact in the mirror before Dean adjusted it again before backing out. The sun was dipping down over the horizon line, creating a cool pink flare throughout the sky. It would be complete night soon, which brought all three of them closer to the asylum’s walking inmates. The days seemed to go by so quickly, probably due to the amount of effort they all put in for each other. In a few short days, Emily had come to know her brothers while they came to know her. However, she felt an anxious pull on her heart to talk to them about something. There was a problem though; she didn’t know what that something was. She zoned out while looking at the sunset, which had disappeared and become a cool night. The asylum rose in the distance, Dean speeding up for a sort of dramatic effect. When they finally parked by the entrance again, they double-checked their gear and opened the doors. Emily sort of jumped out, her legs jittery and her teeth clamping together out of excitement. She pulled her flashlight out and turned it on. She could see the moon already, it was a bright crescent. It appeared to be the waxing gibbous. She continued to look at the rising moon as Dean opened the doors. They all filed in, allowing Emily to close the door behind them. In the newly created darkness, the asylum had multiplied the creepiness perspective by about twenty. The brothers flicked their lights on. As they did, the apparition of a woman appeared in front of them. Dean whipped his rifle out in front of him and shot it. Sam jumped back, slightly startled, but Emily stepped closer to where the apparition just stood.

            “Was that rock salt?” she asked in awe.

            “Yep.” Dean smiled. “Bullets of rock salt. It’ll keep those ghosts off our asses.”

            She smacked his nose.

            “Ow!”

            “She wasn’t attacking us, Dean.” She scolded as she turned around again.

            While rubbing his nose, Dean lowered his rifle down to his side as he watched the same apparition flicker in front of him again. Emily stood in front of him and held her arm out to the side, telling them they were harmless. The apparition didn’t pay much attention and swept through the door to the south wing. Sam let out an exhale as he looked at Emily scope the room with her flashlight. There were apparitions everywhere, appearing and disappearing as fast as they came. Then they heard tears coming from the hallway through the south wing. Going through the doors, they consecutively saw a girl curled up in a corner, crying. Dean aimed the rifle.

            “Don’t shoot!” Sam shouted, whipping the rifle in another direction.

            “Whoops.” Dean whispered.

            Emily and Sam looked at each other, nodding. Sam approached the girl and kneeled down to her. “What’s your name?”

            The girl looked up, frightened, and allowed her eyes to bolt back and forth between all three of them. She seemed hesitant to answer the question, but Sam urged her with the question again.

            “Kat…” she answered shakily.

            “Alright, Kat, what are you doing here all alone?” Sam helped her up.

            “My boyfriend and I…we came here for, like, fun…” she looked at the floor, her eyes widening, “Oh that’s right! We got separated, I can’t find him.” She held her hands out pleadingly.

            “We’ll look for him, but you gotta get out of here.” Dean concluded.

            She shook her head. “I’m not leaving without him.”

            Sam and Dean looked at each other, then back at Kat. Emily stepped forward.

            “We’ll help you find him. I know how important it is to know he’s okay.” She walked up to her and patted her shoulder.

            “He’s so dumped after this.” Kat remarked, stomping away from her and Sam.

            Emily was taken aback and blinked, retreating the hand that was left outstretched where Kat’s shoulder just was. Sam looked at her and laughed, walking up to Dean, who was looking around the hall.

            “So what do you suppose we do, Dean?”

            Dean sighed. “Kat and I will go looking for…” he turned to look at Kat. “What’s his name?”

            “Gavin.” Kat replied.

            “Gavin.” Dean finished.

            “Okay, cool. Emily and I do what, be sitting ducks?” Sam narrowed his eyes.

            Emily stepped in. “Nooooo, we just go looking somewhere else in the asylum.”

            Sam looked back at her and clenched his jaw, nodding. He and her walked down the hall and turned left, while Kat and Dean continued to go straight. The chorus of flashlights clicking echoed through the emptiness of the asylum.

 

Dean and Kat continuously walked, looking in rooms with the flashlight and turning over tables and chairs, moving shelves. Kat was playing with her hands, seemingly nervous and jumpy. Dean decided to break the silence.

            “So, you like horror movies?” he asked, not breaking concentration.

            “Horror movies? I’m living in one! Have you seen—’’

            “The ghosts walking around? I get it. My life’s a horror movie. There’s a bunch of climaxes and no ending.” He looked in a room.

            “That sucks. Who’s the girl that’s with you guys? I figure Sam’s your brother.” She asked.

            “That’s our sister.” He gulped.

            “You guys have a really big age difference, just saying…” Kat said.

            Dean gave her a look, realizing that she was right. They had no idea how Emily was alive, but the fact of the matter was, she lived in another hallway, living and breathing with Sam.

 

Emily was whistling “Remedy” by Seether while looking through the rooms with her flashlight. Sam was behind her, clearly aggravated and upset.

            “So you wanna talk, Grumpy?” she asked, not turning her head.

            “Don’t call me that.” He snapped back.

            “I’m not gonna stop trying to talk to you, Sam. Being a little bitch about your family life doesn’t get you anywhere. You can talk to me.” She turned down another hall. This asylum was a maze.

            “You’ll tell Dean.”

            “What am I, fifteen? Please, whatever is shared individually should remain individual. You can tell Dean when you want.”

            Sam’s response was interrupted by male screaming. They broke into a sprint through the halls. The screaming was cut off by the clanging of wheelchairs the fluttering of papers. Sam ran ahead of her and out of sight around another corner. She almost ran into him when he was stopped in the middle of the hall. She stepped up next to him, they were standing in front of a boy that was collapsed in front of a toppled wheelchair and cabinet. He wasn’t unconscious, he was just incredibly clumsy. It must have been Gavin.

            “Hey are you alright kid?” Sam went over to him and helped him up.

            “Thanks. And yea, I was running from this…ghost thing.” He kept looking behind him.

            “Are you hurt?” Emily asked.

            He shook his head. “Just a bump on the head, but I’m okay.”

            “Okay, Gavin, we’ve gotta get you out of here.” Emily continued.

            “How’d you know my name?”

            “Your girlfriend’s looking for you.” Sam answered.

            “Did the ghost try to hurt you?” Emily asked as they started their way back to Dean and Kat.

            He shook his head. “She whispered something…but I don’t remember what it was…”

            “Don’t beat yourself up over it, it’s okay. Let’s just get you back to Kat. She’s worried about you.” She tried to hide that lie, everybody here knew there was going to be a breakup.

            It was silent until there was a high-pitched scream deeper into the south wing. They all broke into a sprint in order to get back to Kat and Dean. Dean was in front of a door, clearly locked, and banging on it. Kat was screaming inside the room and there were low-pitched moans.

            Sam stepped up to the door. “Kat! Don’t panic, they’re only trying to communicate with you! Stay calm and listen to them!”

            “That’s easy for you to say!” Kat screamed within the room.

            Emily tried to keep Gavin calm while the screaming ceased. There was only heavy breathing and sniffling. The door unlocked, Kat stepping out of it. She was pale, but untouched.

            “137.” She said.

            “What?” Dean asked.

            “I’m assuming that’s a room number?” Emily crossed her arms.

            Everyone was silent for several minutes, the couple didn’t hug and the siblings didn’t talk. Dean shut the room door and looked them each in the eye. He gave Sam his rifle.

            “I’m going to look for that room. Sam, Emily, get these two out of the asylum.”

            Sam tried to interject, but Emily did it for him. “Alone? You’re going alone?”

            Dean nodded and started walking away.

“God dammit.” Emily whispered as he did.

They headed back for the entrance, the couple now united. Sam led the way while Emily kept a lookout behind them all. They got to the main room, Sam headed immediately for the door. Hope was blocked by a dam as Emily heard the door stall, it didn’t open.

“Are you kidding me?” Kat cried.

“Stay calm. Obviously, whatever has us in here doesn’t want us to leave.” Sam concluded with sweat dripping down his face.

Emily had a smile filled with disbelief on her face. She looked at the ceiling of the asylum and started to grind her teeth. “I guess I’m not getting out.” She whispered.

Not having heard her, Sam gave her instructions. “Emily, you have to stand guard over these two while I go help Dean. You can shoot a rifle, right?”

She nodded, in which case she was given the rifle. She watched as Sam ran back through the doors of the south wing. She cleaned up her expression and told the couple they’d be safe. All that was left was to be patient.

 

Dean read the room number, which was covered with dust. It was 137. He busted it open with his foot and looked around. The room was an absolute mess. There were chairs broken, papers everywhere, and blood stains on the walls. Dean grimaced as he stepped around broken glass and wires. He knocked on the walls to ease his nerves, but then he struck a hollow spot. Looking down to where his knuckles were knocking, there was a secret hatch in the wall. He pried it open, a cloud of dust exploding in his face. Through his coughs, he swore and fanned the dust away from his eyes. His coughs dissipating, he picked up the fairly large journal filled with papers. He sifted through them, the scrawled writings describing electrocution and dismemberment. Burns and violence, ending with electricity to the temples. It was supposed to be some sort of _therapy_. Dean closed the journal and closed his eyes, an image of his sister going through his head suddenly. Shaking off the horrible possibility that flashed through him, he turned and left out the door again. He kept the journal under his arm as he sped through the halls and burst through the doors. He was met with a barrel of a gun to his chest. Emily was behind the trigger, very serious and content. She didn’t shoot, but she lowered the gun.

“You scared me.” She said in a monotone voice.

“Thanks for not shooting. Where’s Sam?” Dean asked, gripping the journal tight.

            “Weren’t you in the basement?” Gavin stepped forward. “You called him, you said you were in the basement.”

            Emily turned around, confused. “Wait, when did he say this?”

“While you were in fantasy land.” Kat retorted a bit maliciously.

            Dean shook his head and bolted back out the doors. Emily was left holding the rifle.

 

            Sam entered the basement and continuously sighed, wondering if Dean had found anything, and more importantly, why Dean wanted to meet in the basement. As he looked around, it appeared that nobody was there. There was only an exam table, covered in dust and webs. He heard footsteps behind him, and he was suddenly grabbed by a tight grip. He was turned around, suddenly face to face to an ugly and older representation of Dr. Ellicott. He came to realize that he was staring at his dad.

            “Sanford Ellicott—’’ Sam’s voice was cut off by pain and the sudden rush of saliva up his throat.

            Electricity pulsed from Ellicott’s hands, making Sam’s body convulse, like he was having a seizure.

            “Shhhh…it’s alright…I’m going to make you feel better.” Ellicott whispered.

 

            Five minutes later, Dean walked through the doors of the basement. Incredibly impatient, he turned Sam around, who was just standing there staring off into space.

            “C’mon Sam, you’re just as bad as Emily today.” He remarked.

            Sam was completely unfazed and calm. “I’m sorry. Why’d you call me down here?” Sam asked.

            “Uh, I didn’t? Anyway, I found Ellicott’s journal. It’s incredibly sick. This GUY was sick. He tried using violent tactics like electrocution and burning as some sort of therapy treatment. So that’s probably the reason why the inmates rioted. They had enough of this guy’s crap. They hid the body, and now he’s doing all of this from beyond the grave.” Dean explained.

            Sam looked at the journal with a confused look. “But…he was helping them.”

            Dean extended his arms to make a notion of “what the fuck Sam are you stupid”.  “No. He wasn’t.”

            Sam clenched his jaw. Dean shook his head and read from one of the first entries.

            “It says he has a secret room. And what better place to hide this dick’s body than the place he performed his experiments. We find that room, that means we find the body and burn him.” Dean scammed.

            Dean walked across the room to see a very flimsy piece of wall. He attempted to find an opening while Sam picked his bag off the ground. He pulled his rifle out of it and cocked it.

            “Good thinking Sam, we might need that.” He turned around.

            Sam shot Dean in the chest with a big blast of rock salt. The blast sent Dean flying through the thin layer of wall and into the secret laboratory. The wind was knocked out of him and he struggled to get a deep breath of air.

            “Sam…?!!” Dean lifted his head about an inch.

            Sam stepped through the debris he just caused and looked down at his brother. “I’m tired of it Dean. I’m tired of you, Dean.”

            Dean began to huff and attempt to sit up. Sam stopped him.

“I’m tired of being told what to do! I’m tired of being second in command and following you around, like Dad’s little soldier! I’m sick of you being the favorite! I’m sick of you being alive, I want to do what I want instead of having you tell me what to do! You’re just like dad, you never cared about me! And even now, you don’t now either! Especially now that _Emily_ stepped into the picture! You want to give the impression that you’re the golden brother, well you’re not! I’m sick of it, Dean! I’m sick of you, I’m sick of Dad, and I’m sick of that thing that calls herself our sister!” He screamed at him.

            Dean pulled a gun from his belt, a pistol filled with actual bullets. He pushed it in Sam’s direction, letting him pick it up.

            “If you hate me so much, then kill me! But good luck killing her. You’ll ruin her even more! I don’t care if you kill me, but you will when you have to deal with her! Go ahead! Kill me Sam! Kill me!” Dean screamed at his brother.

            Sam pulled the trigger, but no bullet shot out. He tried again, no bullet. Dean stood up and looked his brother in the eyes. He shot his fist into Sam’s face and sent him to the floor, clearly unconscious. He sighed and stretched his arms. He patted his pockets, where had kept the bullets. He began to tear cupboards apart, going through papers and searching for the crazy doctor’s bones. Everything he found was filled with cobwebs, it was also most likely something Ellicott had used to torture his patients. He then checked a smaller cupboard in the center of the room that held scalpels and syringes in a tray on top. Well enough, when he opened the door of the cupboard, several bones toppled out. The majority of the skeleton was intact, which was perfect for being salted. When Dean stood up and turned around, he was in the midst of pulling his lighter out of his jacket pocket. However, he was attacked with a tackle from an old man. With another glance, Dean recognized it to be Ellicott’s ghost.

            “Alright you son of a bitch…” he attempted to recoil an attack with the rifle across the room, but Ellicott attacked again.

            Dean was being choked, the firm hands of the ghost wrapped around his throat. He was within reach of the bones, but he wasn’t holding his lighter anymore. He glanced farther away from him and there was the lighter, just lying there. He reached with all of his effort, the oxygen was being squeezed from his lungs. One hand was released and began shooting sparks of electricity. The hand drew closer to Dean’s face, but he finally clenched the lighter in his hand. He flicked it on and tossed it into the cupboard next to him. In that instant, Ellicott burst into flames and released him. Dean gasped for air and stood up; Ellicott was wailing in pain and begging for forgiveness. Dean shook his head as he watched Ellicott’s form crumble into dust. He let out a heavy exhale, in the same moment Sam snapped his eyes open.

            “Dean?...!” Sam looked around frantically. “What happened? Ellicott—’’

            “Gone. He’s gone, Sam.” Dean didn’t look at him.

            There was the clearing of a throat in the doorway. They both looked over to see Emily with her own gun in her hands. She looked pale and tired.

            “I came running when I heard a gunshot…but I couldn’t find the basement. Are you okay guys?” she asked, more fragile than normal.

            They both nodded. Dean didn’t help Sam up, but Emily extended her hand. Sam took her hand and got up. Dean looked at the burnt remains.

            “We’re done here.”

            “Kat and Gavin should be outside, it’s nearly dawn. I made sure they were safe.” She said, letting her brothers out of the room first.

            Dean patted her back. “Good job.”

            She put a fake smile on her face and followed them with her head down. She forced herself not to cry as she remembered the words that Sam shouted at Dean.

            “Sweet, the doors are open.” Sam smiled as they all entered the main room.

            Kat and Gavin were already outside, smiling and embracing the sunlight. Sam walked out first, Emily paused at the doorframe behind Dean. The asylum was letting her out.

            “You said you thought you might not get let out. Well, we got you out.” Dean said in a low voice, he was on the other side of the door, in the outside.

            She stepped out and squinted from the sudden light. Rubbing her eyes, she heard Gavin and Kat thanking them. She wanted to feel good, but she couldn’t. She shielded her eyes from the sun with her hand and gave them both a hug before they ran away from the asylum, holding hands.

            “They’re breaking up.” Emily confirmed, walking to the Impala.

            Sam and Dean stood open-mouthed at the remark, Dean smiled a little as he walked to the Impala as well. Sam cleared his throat and stopped him.

            “Dean, for what I said back there…”

            “Stop.” Dean put his hand on the door handle.

            “It wasn’t me saying it, I didn’t have control over my body. It was all Ellicott, I’m sorry.” Sam pleaded.

            “Drop it, Sam. Let’s just go back to the motel.”

            From inside the Impala, Emily looked back and forth between the windows that her brothers were standing by.

            “Everybody in this fucking family needs to learn to talk to each other…” she whispered to herself.

            She yawned as her brothers entered the vehicle. Dean started the engine and they drove back to the motel.

 

**Motel**

            Sam was in the shower and Emily had a towel on her head. She had just gone while Dean was waiting to go next. She was still pale-looking and tired, but Dean had hardly taken notice. She was curled up in sweatpants and a sweatshirt, looking through her phone apps randomly. Dean sat still, staring off into space.

            “Hey, Dean.” She broke the silence.

            “Yea, what’s up Swami?” he looked at the towel on her head and laughed.

            “I uh…I don’t bother you…do I? Suddenly…you know…showing up like I did…” she put her phone down.

            Dean’s smile faded. “What are you talking about?”

            “I knew where the basement was, Dean. Sam and I passed it while looking for Gavin.”

            “You heard.” Dean’s face was filled with frustration.

            “If I’m a bother, I can just leave. I don’t have to stay.” She swallowed.

            “Well we want you to stay.” He tried to convince her.

            “Sam obviously doesn’t…” she trailed off.

            “No, POSESSED Sam doesn’t. Sam was possessed by that freak show. You’re good. You’re also too tired. Take a nap, go to bed. I’ll pick us up some grub and we can watch television today. Today’s a day-in type of day. Go, go to bed.” He shooed her into the bedroom.

            She whipped the towel off of her head and draped it neatly on a door. She then proceeded to jump into one of the beds, black hitting her vision right away as the sleep overtook her.

 

**Night**

        Several hours had passed since their meals, showers, and television shows. Sam was lying in bed, images of the asylum crossing through his head. He was taken out of slumber by the ringing of a cell phone. His vision was blurry at first, but his hand automatically reached for the night stand, grabbing the phone that must have been ringing. He looked at the number, but it was unfamiliar. He answered, trying not to yawn and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

            “Hello…?”

            _“Sam?”_

            The sleep seemed to have been punched out of him. He knew that voice. He knew it too well to not recognize it right away.

            “Dad?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven't noticed by now, I am using the main adventures through the show to back the plot, but at the same time, I'll be using and incorperating my own chapters and characters to mold a greater creation. I just wanted to see how the story would go if I was involved, and I really like it. :)


	3. Orchard of the Crazies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the fiasco at the asylum, the siblings receive a phone call from their father. Of course, the brothers don't allow Emily to speak to him yet, leaving Emily in the wondering about her real family. Sam goes AWOL after a disagreement on terms, and Emily and Dean are left alone to solve the case of the Scarecrow Pagan God. Through all of this, Emily begins receiving ominous texts and phone calls from the people of her past, and finally there is a breaking point on Emily's relationships.

With that, Dean jolted awake and ruffled his blankets while attempting to get out of bed. His eyes were wide and his face was turning red from frustration.

            “Is that dad?!” he asked.                                                                       

            Sam ignored him. “Dad, where are you? Are you okay?”

            “ _I’m fine, Sam. I’m fine. I can’t tell you where I am, and I have a word of advice.”_

“Dad, why can’t you tell us where you are?! Where ARE you?” Sam pushed.

            “ _I said I can’t tell you. I can’t because I think I’m close to finding what killed your mother. And Jess.”_

“Sam, give me the phone.” Dean held his hand out.

            “Dad, what is it?!” Sam shouted.

            “Sam, dammit, give me the phone!” Dean was shouting too.

            “ _Stop following me. Both of you, you need to stop following me. I need you to take down some names for me._ ”

            “Like hell, dad! Tell me—’’ the phone was snatched up by Dean.

            “Dad, it’s me. Names? Yea, I have a pen. I’m ready, read them off.” Dean jotted down the names John repeated to him.

            Sam sat in his bed in disbelief as Dean took the orders. Emily walked in the room while rubbing her eyes. Her face read disbelief, just like Sam’s.

            “Dad…?” she whispered.

            Sam swallowed and looked at Dean. “Give her the phone, Dean.”

            Dean looked up from the paper and at Sam, then to Emily. “I’m not giving her the phone, Sam.”

            “ _What was that? Her who?”_

            “Nothing, dad. Yea, I got the names. Yes, sir.”

            The call was disconnected and the phone was placed on the table. Emily stared at it with sorrow in her eyes, clearly pained once again. She looked up at Dean, who was getting ready to leave.

            “We have a case.” Was all he muttered.

            She nodded her head and proceeded to get ready to leave. Sam looked back and forth between her and him, not knowing whether to speak or just go along with what was going on. He decided to get dressed, only he didn’t speak to either of them. Emily was the first to be ready, her backpack was swung over her shoulder and her hair was brushed. Even though she looked ready, Sam knew she wasn’t ready. She wanted to talk to him. However, she knew perfectly well that she couldn’t. They needed to know more about her, about how she was created. Dean was ready, his bag over his shoulder. He packed Sam’s things up and tried to rush him, but Sam refused his help. Dean led the way out the door, Emily following at his heels, and Sam closed the room door behind them.

 

**Impala**

        Sam was scribbling on a piece of paper, trying to connect the names that their dad had told them to write down. Emily sat in the backseat, trying to watch what Sam was writing. Occasionally she looked to Dean, focusing on the concentration in his face. He took driving really seriously, probably because the slightest nick on the Impala would send him into a downward spiral of depression. She cracked her knuckles.

            “So guys, where are we headed?” she smiled a little.

            It took Dean a minute to register that she had asked a question. “Indiana.”

            She whistled in amazement. “You know, I’ve only been to Indiana once. Pesky spirit case. I remember Grant kept smelling pizza, because that was his favorite food and the ghost was taunting him. It was funny, but the thing pissed me off.” She looked over Sam’s shoulder again, he had stopped writing and he let out a deep exhale.

            “Alright. All these people, the names, they all went missing while they were on road trips. They all disappeared along the same stretch of area, all in the same week of April.” Sam told them.

            Dean nodded and Emily smiled. “Good job, Sam.” She patted his shoulder.

            After a few moments, Sam spoke up again. “I don’t want to go to Indiana.”

            Dean shot him a look. “Excuse me? That’s where the case is, Sam.”

            Sam looked back at him. “Dad’s in California. I tracked the number back to a pay phone in California.”

            “Sam, he told us to stop following him. And we’re gonna listen to him.” Dean began to grit his teeth together in frustration.

            “Of course you are. I don’t want to, Dean. We’re going to California.”

            Dean screeched the car to a halt, causing Emily to fly front onto middle console. They continued to argue around her body.

            “I knew you meant what you said back there. At the asylum. _Possessed_  my ASS.” Dean shouted.

            Sam opened his door just as Emily was able to balance herself and get up. Her eyes were in a frenzy and she fumbled for the door handle. She opened her door and stumbled out, Sam was retrieving his bag from the trunk. Dean’s door was slammed shut and she saw him walk briskly over to their brother. Sam slammed the trunk.

            “We are going to Indiana, just like dad told us to. Now get back in the damn car.” Dean pointed aggressively to the Impala.

            Emily stepped forward and waved her arms at hip level pleadingly. “Please, Sam, we can go to California when we finish the job!”

            Sam gave her an angry look. “You’re just saying that. You’re just like Dean, dad’s little soldier.”

            Her voice began to crack to try to get him to stay. “I want to find dad too, but for now we have to do what we can here! What if we mess him up, you know? Like, what if he’s really close and we just crash the party? Please, please, get back in the car!”

            Dean stepped forward. “If you leave us, we’re just going to leave you behind.”

            Sam started walking away. “That’s what I want you to do.”

            Emily’s brain was trying to calculate the complicated drama that must have existed before she stepped into the picture. She was watching Sam walk away without truly saying goodbye. She forced tears back and she began to panic. Was Sam serious? What if they did leave him behind and he needed them in the future, what if she never saw her brother ever again? She tilted her head to the side and took a step forward.

            “Sam?” she shouted after him.

            He didn’t say anything in response. He was beginning to fade in the mist which was being created by the early morning. She sprinted forward after him.

            “Sam, you can’t go!” she screamed after him.

            Her middle was clutched and she was forced back. She looked up and saw it was Dean holding her back. He was trying really hard to get her to stop flailing.

            “No, come back! We’re family!” she screamed once more.

            The last comment seemed to phase Dean more than it phased Sam. She was being pulled backward, back to the Impala. She didn’t realize that Dean had been talking to her until she looked at him to interject his capturing her. She didn’t speak when she read the anger and frustration in his eyes. She let him talk to her.

            “You and me will be fine. If Sam doesn’t need us,” he opened the passenger door, “then he’ll come to his senses. We have a job to do.”

            Emily climbed in after she nodded. When Dean got in, he only clutched the steering wheel for a long time. Emily sniffled and wiped her face.

            “I’m sorry I acted like that.” She said, looking down at her hands.

            He huffed and looked at her. “I get it. Just be on your toes for me now, okay?”

            She nodded and buckled herself in. Dean started down the road again, his eyes once again concentrated on the road. The car felt inexplicitly empty, there was only one brother. One third of the pack has chewed its arm off and run away from the others. Now that Emily was alone, thoughts flew through her head. She began thinking about what Sam said back at the asylum. _I’m sick of that thing that calls herself our sister!_

            “Dean, I’m not a thing am I? Like, I’m a human being. I’m not an animal or a robot. I’m not some sort of demon or one of the fuckin’ angels that’s in the bible. I’m not a book. Or a computer, or a strand of hair. Like, I’m a human being…not a thing…” she was babbling.

            “To be honest, you lost me after the question. But what’s got into your head?” Dean didn’t take his eyes off the road.

            “What Sam said back at the asylum. I feel like I ruined his life.” Her voice lowered.

            “Stop it. You didn’t ruin anything. Sam’s been going through stuff. Remember how Jess died? Yea, he still feels like shit after that. I’d forget about it.”

            She nodded, reassured. “Okay. Don’t you get down either. You’re the golden brother after all.” She smirked and chewed on her sleeve.

            He looked over at her. “Oh, shut up…”

 

**Small Town, Morning**

        “Alright, because the couples got lost along the same stretch of road, I’m going to ask about them around town.” Dean stated, leaving the car.

            Emily was holding a map. “This town’s in the middle of the area…”

            “Bingo, Junior Mint.” He smacked the car, by her open window, showing the approval of her observation.

            She nodded and folded the map up. When stuffing it back into the glove compartment, she saw some people in her peripheral vision. When she turned her head, a group of middle-aged people were looking at her. She waved awkwardly, but didn’t receive one back. She laughed awkwardly and took the initiative to leave the car. Dean was looking through his phone, she caught him looking at Sam’s name in the contact list.

            “You ready?” he asked, putting the phone away quickly.

            She nodded, but turned around to look at the people again. They had gone away, and she breathed a sigh of relief. Following Dean into “Scotty’s Café”, she could feel her stomach gurgling with disapproval of the lack of sustenance inside her. She coughed it away, sniffling through her nose as a cover-up for the cough. The café was inviting and homey, Dean pulled papers from his inner-jacket pocket and unfolded them. There were pictures of the people they were looking for, along with the names under them. He slammed the papers on the counter, the owner looking surprised, but Dean gave him a smile.

            “The name’s John Bonner.”

            Emily looked up at his brother in cocky disbelief. _That’s the drummer for Led Zeppelin…_

“Hey, that’s the name of the drummer from Led Zeppelin.” The man smiled.

            Emily smiled and shook her head, Dean straightened up from his cool, ‘leaning over counter’ stance. He was clearly impressed.

            “Have you seen these people?” he held up the papers that read ‘Holly’ and ‘Vince’.

            The man didn’t look at the papers for a long time, he only took a glance. “We usually don’t get visitors around here, buddy.”

            _That wasn’t what he asked._ She thought to herself, furrowing her eyebrows.

            Dean mumbled a sarcastic remark under his breath, it even surprised Emily so much it made her laugh. She then cleared her throat and left the café behind Dean. She broke out into laughter again and had to support herself against a telephone pole. In the meantime, Dean wandered over to a gas station that was empty, except for two people and a teenager which was farther away, minding her own business. He shouted for them, waving with his one hand to get their attention. They smiled warmly at him.

            “Hello, how can we help you?” the man asked. He looked about sixty.

            “Uh yes, I’m looking for my two friends, they passed through here on a road trip.” Dean showed them the papers.

            The same as Scotty, the café owner, they hardly glanced at the papers. The woman simply frowned and focused on Emily, who was still recovering her outburst at the telephone pole.

            “We don’t get many visitors around here.” She answered, looking away toward the road.

            “Never seen them before, buddy.” The man added.

            Suddenly, a new voice entered the conversation. “Yes we have, it was that nice couple whose car broke down.” The girl had walked into the conversation. “We fed them pie and showed them on their way.” She was smiling.

            Dean smiled cockily. “So you _do_ get visitors around here.”

            The girl grabbed her arm and led him away. “Sorry about my aunt and uncle, they’re a bit…you know.”

            “Yea.” Dean nodded.

            “The couple drove off to the interstate. If you want, I can give you directions.” She smiled.

            “That’d be great. Thanks…” he paused and waited for a name.

            “Emily.” She smiled.

            Dean blinked and narrowed his eyes, turned around at his sister, then looked back again. His mouth was open in surprise. His sister waved, clearly over her laughing problem, and began walking over to him.

            “Those directions?” he was hurrying.

            Blonde Emily began directing her hands south, along the road and past the orchard. Dean, while backing up, backed into his sister.

            “Yea, thanks for those directions, Emily.” He waved.

            “What? I didn’t say shit.” His sister said.

            He grabbed her arm and pulled her for the Impala. It took her a moment to realize why Dean was hurrying away.

            “GOD DAMMIT, IS HER NAME EMILY TOO?!” she screamed as they neared the car.

            Emily’s despise for other girls with her name created the opportunity for Dean to shove her in the passenger seat and close the door quickly. He hopped into the driver’s seat and started the engine, immediately heading to the exit of the town. He honked the horn to the other Emily when he drove past. Dean sighed, now in the safety of his own vehicle where Emily knew not to make a fuss.

            “I hate people with my name.” she crossed her arms.

            “I kind of figured that.” He smiled nervously.

            “Oh really?” she narrowed her eyes.

            “I didn’t mean that as an insult, you’re just weird enough to predict that kind of thing.” He shrugged.

            Her mouth was wide open in surprise, but she started laughing again anyway. Dean let out another sigh, following the road to the interstate.

 

They were driving for a while, according to Emily’s map, they were almost there. The sun was setting, the radio was playing classic rock, but due to the hum of the car, neither of them really took notice to what band was playing. Emily drummed on her thighs and decided to break the silence that has lasted several hours.

            “How do you think Sam’s doing?” she asked hesitantly.

            Right away she knew that wasn’t the best thing to start a conversation with. Dean took in a deep breath and glanced at her while on a straight-away.

            “I bet he’s regretting leaving, that’s what. But I think he’s good. He’ll come to his senses sooner or later.” He clenched his jaw. He didn’t believe himself.

            “You know what I think he’s doing? It’s weird, I’ve been daydreaming this whole car ride and I’ve come up with a theory.” She smiled.

            “Alright, let’s hear it.” Dean didn’t look too thrilled.

            “I bet, on his soul-searching quest, he sucks at getting rides from people, because he’s so creepy and tall. So he’ll try for a ride, but he won’t get one. Then he’ll meet this girl, right? Pretty girl, funny, nonchalant. She’s a hitch hiker too. Sam’ll try to hit it off, but she’ll ignore him. THEN, when he is finally able to reach transport, he’ll gaze at his phone, like in a sappy movie. He’ll realize that he was wrong and that his family needs him. When he announces his leave, the girl he meets suddenly wants him to stay! It’ll be an internal battle between lust and family, and in the end, he’ll choose family because he loves us.” She explained.

            Dean laughed. “I highly doubt that that’s gonna happen.”

            She shrugged. “I dunno. It seems—’’

            Dean shushed her suddenly and turned the radio off. There was a clanking in the rear of the car, like a mechanism was about to bust. Dean pulled over to the side of the road and bolted out of the driver’s seat. There were small amounts of smoke wafting from underneath the rear of the car. Emily got out as well, waving any smoke away from her face while Dean inspected his Baby.

            “God dammit, this came unhinged…” Dean growled under his breath.

            Emily, knowing nothing about cars, walked over to her brother with an empty head. She had no knowledge to give, and it wasn’t like there was a garage just lying around in the middle of nowhere. Dean stood up and scuffed the road with his toe, not wanting to hurt the car’s tires with his foot.

            “Are we stranded?” she asked him.

            He clenched his jaw and shook his head. “If we find something to reconnect the hinges, we can make an emergency trip back to that town. We don’t really have a choice but to go back.”

            She nodded and pointed to the entrance to an orchard. “Maybe there’s somebody living in the orchard?”

            Dean turned his head to look at the entrance. He jogged through the opening and was met with a maze of trees, some bearing apples, some withering from malnutrition. Emily followed at his heels, keeping a keen eye out for something they could use to patch up the car. There was suddenly a clear opening, which was laced with apple trees. In the center was what seemed to be a scarecrow. Across from that was a fairly large oak tree, beautiful, bearing flowers that were shaking in the short breezes that came and went. Next to the tree were some random tools, they seemed to be littered there from recent work in the orchard. Emily wandered over to the tree and gazed up at it while Dean was stopped in front of the scarecrow.

            “This is one fugly scarecrow.” He wrinkled his nose.

            Emily turned around and looked at it from a greater distance. “Well, it is supposed to scare things.”

            Dean was on his tiptoes trying to get a closer look at the horrendous body of straw when he was tapped with a metal object. He turned to see Emily holding a ladder for him.

            “Time to meet your prom date.” She smiled as he took it from her.

            “Just keep looking for something to patch the car up with.” He looked at the scarecrow closely.

            Rolling her eyes, she returned to the base of the tree to comb through the rest of the trash piled up in front of it. While she did that, Dean examined his scarecrow over thoroughly. He made a face at the thing’s horrifying facial features and then grazed over the arms. On the one arm, there was some sort of tattoo. It looked familiar.

            “Hey, did one of the missing people have a tattoo?” Dean asked, turning on the ladder.

            Without turning around she answered him, “Yes, it was Vince. Why?”

            Dean looked at the tattoo again. “Just thought I’d ask.”

            He got off the ladder and tossed it to the size. He then heard the twirling of a chain and he turned around. Emily was holding a hook on a chain and was spinning it with a smile on her face.

            “I found a hook.” She continued to spin it.

            “I see that. Now stop spinning it before you take a head off.”

            She stopped spinning it and handed it to him. He then smiled and jogged back to the car. Emily took a quick glance at the scarecrow before she followed him back. It sent a chill up her spine that caused goose bumps to erupt all over her. She turned back and followed Dean, who was already assembling the broken parts of the car back together with the hook. She stopped when she reached him, panting a little. He jumped up and wiped his forehead, he had accumulated a small amount of sweat.

            “She’ll survive back to the town. I hate backtracking though.” He got back into the car.

 

            On the way back, being guided by the moon, Emily’s phone vibrated. Her eyes widened, because only few people had her number. Not even her brothers had her number yet. She decided to ignore it, because it only seemed to be a text message. She sighed in relief when the vibrating stopped. After five more minutes, it vibrated again. This time, she grabbed it from her pocket after the first vibration. She typed her password in and tapped her messages. There were two, like she felt. They were both about the same topic.

            _“9:45 p.m. Steven_

_Where are you? Call as soon as you can.”_

            She deleted it and went on to the second message. This one was more blunt and to the point.

            _“9:50 p.m. Kyle_

 _Come back to Pennsylvania. It’s Marcus._ ”

            The names in the messages pounded on her heartstrings. Like a good brother, Dean knew there was something was wrong.

            “Who was that, Emily?”

            She darkened her phone and put it back in her pocket. “Nobody. I just need to call somebody when this case is over.” She didn’t look at him.

            “What, will I cramp your style or something?” he smiled, but quickly got the hint the situation should not be pressured further.

            They let it go. That is, until the phone vibrated again ten minutes later. Clearly losing her concentration, she whipped the phone out and looked at it. This time it was a call. From Kyle.

            She grinded her teeth and slowly slid the “accept call” interface.

            _“For fuck’s sake, I thought you’d never answer me. I knew you wouldn’t answer for Steven, so that’s why I chipped in.”_ the voice on the other end explained.

            The sound of Kyle’s voice brought tears to her eyes. It hadn’t changed, it was still gruff and strong, power behind his words. However, he still cared enough to check in on her. Glancing over at Dean, he was staring right at her, which is why the Impala had impeccably slowed down to a ten miles per hour.

            “Kyle, I can’t talk…” her voice was cracking under her emotions.

            _“Aw, you miss me so much you’re in tears. Anyway, where are ya? Steven and I are dyin’ to see you. Not sure who misses you more.”_

“I’m…on a case.” She locked eyes with Dean.

            The phone was silent for a second before she heard him growl. _“You’re not ready yet. You KNOW that.”_

“Emily, give me the phone.” Dean sped up again.

            “Kyle, I’ve done a couple already and I’ve been fine. I have to go, okay?” she pushed Dean’s hand away.

            _“Who the almighty fuck is that?”_

            Sensing his boiling anger she hung up and threw the phone in the back seat. She knew Dean was still staring her down, but she also knew he had to eventually put his eyes back on the road. It was going to be a long night.

 

            At dawn they pulled back into town just as the hook was beginning to fail at its job. It wobbled off just as Dean pulled into the gas station. Blonde Emily walked out the door just as he left the vehicle. She looked confused.

            “Couldn’t find your way to the interstate?”

            “Car broke down on the way. Luckily, the sis found a handy hook in an orchard that we broke down by. We drove back here, cause this is the closest town for a while.” Dean explained.

            Emily stepped out of the Impala and greeted her named-adversary. She looked distant, not at the other Emily, still thinking about the phone call and text messages. Dean placed a hand on her shoulder and told her to head to the café and get something to eat. She did, not bothering to say goodbye to them.

            “Is she alright?” Emily asked.

            “Yea, she’s just had a rough night. Anyway,” he pointed to a new car. “Who’s car is that?”

            “Oh, they’re another couple that’s passing through here. They’re in the café right now, actually. I’ll see what I can do about your Impala.” She smiled.

            He nodded, thanked her, and jogged toward the café. Inside was a new couple he hadn’t seen before, and his sister, who had taken a seat farthest away from the door. She had a slice of pie in front of her and was eating slowly, as if thinking was too much to do while eating at the same time. Dean approached the couple, smiling, trying not to come off too strong.

            “Hey guys.” He stops in front of their table.

            Scotty, the café owner, brought slices of pie for the couple, suddenly troubled now that he was face to face with Dean again.

            “What are you doing back here, boy?” Scotty didn’t look too happy to see him.

            “I had a break down on the road, probably from some rocks in the road. Hey, you guys be careful on those roads, alright? They can be pre-tty dangerous. Especially at night.” He wagged a finger at them.

            The man was not amused. “Hey, we’re just trying to eat here, okay?”

            Dean put his hands up in defeat and continued on his way to Emily’s table. Scotty was eyeballing him the whole way and stepped outside. Emily had about two bites of pie left. Dean activated his teary eyes, begging for the last forkfuls.

            “You want the rest? I’m full.” She pushed the plate towards him.

            Delighted, Dean seemed to inhale the last bites of the pie in an instant. Emily let out a sigh, getting up from the table.

            “Now wait a second, I’ve seen you eat a triple cheeseburger and a large fry and now you’re being defeated by a pie? This isn’t correct, Em.” He said, swallowing.

            “I’m just…stressed out. That’s all.” She smiled at him.

            After a few seconds, Dean nodded at her and got up from the table. While they walked out, a sheriff was waiting for them at the door.

            “Oh for god’s sake, Dean…” she mumbled.

            “What seems to be the problem, officer?” Dean asked, clearly annoyed.

            “You and your cohort have created enough of a bothersome environment, and I’m asking you to leave.” The officer glared at them.

            “Cohort? What’d the hell I do? I just ordered some pie!” Emily argued.

            The Impala was rolled into the street, fully repaired, and the both of them entered the car per the sheriff’s instructions.

            “This is bullshit…” Emily mumbled, slamming her door.

            Dean started the Impala and drove out, back onto the open road, a police car following them as they went. Over Emily’s whining that the whole situation was bullshit, Dean devised an idea.

            “Hey.”

            “Yea, Dean.” She huffed.

            “What’d you think of that scarecrow? Back at the orchard.” He sped up.

            “It gave me the fuckin’ chills, that’s what happened. I could’ve sworn it looked at me when we were leaving.” She crossed her arms.

            “Same here. You know what, I bet they’re hiding something about that orchard. Nobody likes when I bring it up, I mean anyone in that damn town. Except for Emily, she’s clueless.”

            She cleared her throat and looked at him.

            “Not you, the other one!”

            She thought before speaking again. “That town is way sketchy. There’s no way you or I were that annoying in like, the two hours we were there.”

            Dean nodded. “Good point.”

            “I think that couple’s gonna be scare-food if we don’t keep a lookout.”

            “That’s what I was thinking.”

 

            The escort left when they had made it to the orchard area, where they had broken down last time. To Emily, that was a sign that they may be bait for something. They pulled over to the side of the road when the sheriff was for sure out of sight.

            “For future reference, will there be a visit to a library?” she asked as Dean turned the car off.

            “Maybe, why?”

            “I’m in the mood for a good book.” She curled up in the passenger seat.

            After what seemed like hours, there was the sound of a failing engine farther up the road. There was a read car that passed them two minutes ago, that must have been it. That was the perfect opportunity to leave the car and begin scouting the orchard for the couple. They were probably going to do what they did, search for a person or a spare part. They took the same route they did before, looking around the maze of trees and going even deeper than before. Dean was holding his gun filled with salt, the grip tight around it. After a few minutes of searching, there were crunching leaves, only it was the sound of running over them, not periodical walking. Dean prepared the shotgun, while Emily looked around and turned in circles, searching for the source. Crunching and crackling got closer and closer, until eventually one of the sources ran smack into Emily, knocking her over. Frantic, she got to her feet to see the couple, who was screaming and still struggling to run away. From behind a tree came the walking mass of straw and terror, the scarecrow. Dean shot it square in the chest, giving his sister time to get the couple out of the orchard. Dean ran after them, occasionally checking behind him to see if the scarecrow was following them. As they ran, there was no crow-scaring pursuer, only crows themselves fleeing from the trees. When they safely made it back to the road, they were between the Impala and where the couple’s car was parked. The couple was still shaking, eyes still wide. Dean lowered his shotgun and looked to his sister. There was an awkward silence of sorts because the siblings didn’t want to have to bother explaining what had just happened. Not only that, they had no idea what they were dealing with.

            “What the hell was that?!” the man shouted at them.

            Dean stepped forward. “We just saved your lives, be grateful, get back in your car, and get the hell out of here.”

            The man, appalled, advanced towards Dean until Emily stepped between them, holding the hook and chain.

            “We think it’s best that you take this chain and mend the hinge in the back of your car. When you find a garage, get it fixed. Vamoose if you want to stay alive.” She gave the man a look.

            The woman pulled on her significant other’s arm, with the chain, back to their vehicle. Without a single ‘thanks’ spoken, they disappeared in the distance to mend their car. Emily sighed, turning back toward her brother.

            “How did you know they needed the chain?” Dean asked, bewildered.

            “Because they were a couple with a young woman involved. I’m a young girl woman thing and you’re a man. Seems fishy that after one ‘couple’ wasn’t toasted, there was a replacement couple. And there they go.” She explained, crossing her arms.

            Dean let out a long sigh. “Let’s get to a library.”

 

**Burketsville Community College, Late Morning**

            Dean stood by the Impala in the parking lot while Emily darted inside, having the incredible urge to research. His cell was in his hand, receiving a never-ending dial tone.

            _“Dean?”_

            “Sam. I need your help here, buddy.” His face was hopeful.

            _“Is something wrong?”_ It sounded as if Sam was desperately trying to mask his concern.

            “There’s this scenario: it involves a living scarecrow and missing couples. Emily figured out that there was a connection between couples and their cars breaking down near this creepy orchard, where the scarecrow ganks them.” Dean looked through one window, to see Emily watching him over the pages of a book.

            _“Sounds like Emily’s got you covered. Why do you need me?”_

            After a pause, Dean swallowed. “Because you’re my brother, Sam. I can’t do this without you. But you’re right; if you want to go on your own, you have every right to do that. I’m proud of you.”

            Sam paused for a long time. _“I gotta go, Dean.”_

Dean felt pain inside him. “Alright Sam.”

            Sam hung up, leaving Dean to look at the phone in dismay. He looked up to see Emily turning her back to him, most likely involved with her book. Stuffing the phone in his pocket, he sighed. He figured Sam wouldn’t want to come back, but he figured he’d give it a shot. He made his way through the doors to see Emily, arms crossed across her chest.

            “And so he says that you said ‘Goodbye’.” She mumbled.

            Confused, Dean just followed her down the hall to a very open classroom that was lined with bookshelves. She greeted a professor who was already warm with her, she must have had a discussion with him while Dean was on the phone. But giving his sister another look, she beamed at the thought of knowledge. Then it dawned on him; she looked like a student herself. Of course a professor was willing to share information with her.

            “I found the book you were looking for, Miss Wilson.” He smiled, holding an old-looking book.

            She smiled wide as he placed it on a podium and allowed her to look through it. She looked through the table of contents and found a particular section on ‘The Earth and Witchcraft’. Dean took over when she read the section aloud. He quickly paged through, demanding results.

            “That’s just my older brother. You know how nosy they are.” She gave him a toothy grin, completely innocent. He returned the gesture.

            Dean stopped on a page that had the picture of a scarecrow. His eyes widened and smiled a little, letting it fade right away.

            “Hey, what’s this about a scarecrow?” he asked the professor.

            “That, dear boy, is the Pagan god of the Earth. It would provide crops to the humans as long as they provided a sacrifice: a man and a woman. If the sacrifice was not delivered in time, which was every spring, the crops would fail, and famine would strike.” The professor explained.

            “Is there a way to kill it?” Dean was very serious now.

            “Uh, well, it’s tied to a specific title of nature. A special tree keeps it alive. If that’s destroyed, the scarecrow loses its life force along with it.” He frowned then. “You do know these are just…stories, right?”

            Dean didn’t answer and just stormed out of the room. Emily distracted that last question with flipping to the spirits of fire instead.

            “I’m sorry about him, he’s incredibly….myth-bustery. He thinks anything is real, can you imagine that?” she laughed snidely, letting the professor join in on the laughter.

            “I’m glad there’s children that are so interested in education. Where ever did you attend school?” she seemed to make the old guy happy.

            Her heart skipped a beat. “I went to a smaller district in Pennsylvania, it’s nothing special, trust me.”

            “Oh, alright. Make sure you catch up to him, I can’t have you walking home now, child.” He wandered to another bookshelf.

            “No worries, he won’t leave me behind. I won’t venture out alone.” She smiled, closing the book.

            Thanking the professor, she skipped out of the establishment, almost forgetting that she was there on a job. She looked around for Dean.

            “Okay, Dean! I’m done sucking up, I’m ready to go!” she looked around, getting a chill up her spine.

            Her smile fell and faded away when she realized the Impala was the only car left in the parking lot, considering it was just full a few minutes ago. Luckily for her, the keys were still in the ignition.

            “I guess I am venturing out alone.” She sighed as she got into the driver’s seat.

            She turned the key and grabbed the steering wheel, being extremely careful with the car and backing up. She smirked and turned up the radio at full blast, rolled the windows down, and sped down the road. She knew exactly where she was going.

 

**Orchard**

        The citizens of the town were gathered by the very old house in the orchard. The sheriff opened a type of basement door, leading to a hole with minimal amount of space. In his grasp was Dean, who now had a new bruise on his face from being knocked out cold. His hands were tied with rope and was looking around frantically for his sister. He felt like shouting at them, but as he tried, his hands were cut loose and he was tossed into the pit, the door closing above him. For kidnappers, they sure were polite about him being able to break his fall. There was a discussion going on as he was waking up. The townspeople knew he got away from the scarecrow twice, now they must be desperate. Suddenly the door was opened again, this is when he took the initiative to call out.

            “Where’s Emily?!” he screamed.

            The wrong Emily was thrown into the hole next to him. He took this as some sort of irony. The door closed on them again, leaving Emily to cry out to plead with her aunt and uncle.

            “Why are you doing this?!” she tried to pound on the door.

            “It’s no use, Emily. They aren’t letting us out. We’re gonna be sacrificed to the scarecrow out there.” Dean explained.

            “Scarecrow?! How will we be sacrificed to a _scarecrow?!_ ” she was panicking now.

            “It isn’t a normal scarecrow, it’s a Pagan god. You know all the people that have passed through? Sacrificed to it. That’s how you guys have your apples for your precious apple pie.”

            “What the--?!” she clearly had no idea this was going on.

            “Anyway, we have to kill it. Is there a tree here? Besides the obvious, like a really really old tree.” He asked, starting to bang on the door.

            “Yea, there’s the one directly across from it. There’s a bunch of trash in front of it, you can’t miss it.” She was trying not to cry.

            He let out a laugh. “This is the most ironic day of my life.”

            Emily recognized her aunt and uncle’s voices above them. “We’re ready for the sacrifice.”

            They opened the doors again, fishing Dean out first. They tied his hands up again and fished out their niece next. She was in hysterics as they tied her hands up. Snotting and crying all over, she continued to try and plead with them.

            “I’m your niece! Why are you doing this to me, why?!” she was tied to the tree first.

            “Dear, it’s for the town…” her aunt replied as the uncle tied Dean to the tree next.

            Her eyes were wide as all the townspeople fanned out, leaving the premises. Dean was trying to wriggle his hands free, but he wasn’t having much luck. Emily sniffled and looked at him.

            “Do you have a plan?” she asked, hopefully.

            “Working on it.” He saw her face lose any hope that was held in at the moment.

            After wriggling a little more, he remained unsuccessful at getting out of the ropes. He also realized that he never found out where his sister was.

            “When you were in the crowd, did you see my sister? The angry one from earlier?”

            She shook her head no. He sighed and remembered he left the keys in the ignition of the Impala. He tried not to become more worried about his car than his sister. As time passed, Dean continued to answer “Working on it” whenever Emily asked about an escape plan. There was rustling of leaves in the distant trees. Dean’s heart skipping a beat, he attempted once more to break free of the ropes. The rustling was getting closer, twigs were snapping. Emily began to panic again. Dean attempted to calm her down by talking.

            “My sister, she really isn’t all that angry or crazy. She’s just a weird seventeen year old. She’s got the will of an ox, but she’s as stubborn as a mule. You panic a little more than she does, though.” He saw her crack a smile. “But the thing is, if she’s out there with the Impala, she’ll fight. She’ll do whatever it takes. I believe that she can do it.”

            The rustling was directly behind them, and they closed their eyes.

            “Dean!” came a familiar voice behind him.

            “Sam?!” he opened his eyes and turned his head so he could see behind him.

            Sam scurried to the front of the tree, looking confused. He didn’t bother to ask questions and just untied them from the tree.

            “How did you get here? Why are you here?” he rubbed his red wrists.

            “I had a feeling you needed me.” He gave his brother a smile. “Now where’s this scarecrow?”

            Their faces fell. The scarecrow wasn’t on its post anymore, it was gone. Emily started to panic again.

            “Oh my god, oh my god, I’m going to die…” she covered her eyes.

            Dean grabbed her arm as Sam led them in a dash to get out of the orchard. They were stopped by Emily’s aunt and uncle, the sheriff, and the professor from the college. There was a sound of an engine in the distance, they must have been closer to the road than they thought. However, the hum of it got progressively louder.

            “You can’t leave.” The aunt said.

The uncle chimed in, being loud over the noise.  “Not without—’’

            “BEEP BEEP MOTHER FUCKERS!”

The uncle was cut off by the incredible honking of a 1967 Chevy Impala that was racing toward them at seventy miles per hour. The group of them jumped to the side, making a path for the crazy seventeen year old behind the wheel. She screeched to a halt, turning the car as she skidded to a halt. When the stench of burning rubber on grass dissipated, she left the vehicle with a gun in her hand, down at her side, with her other hand perched on her hip. Dean and Sam stood up along with the uncle and the professor. The others got up after them, and slower.

            “What. The car. What have…” Dean didn’t seem to absorb what she just did with his car.

            Emily gave a cocky smile that spread across her face as she looked at the group in front of her, facing her people. She was upset by the professor being in the bad group.

            “Aw man… I loved you, dude! You were so nice…” she pouted, but the smile soon returned.

            The other Emily, eyes wide, looked to Dean for support. “ _This_ is your non-crazy sister?”

            “Oi. Don’t throw the c word around. I’m savin’ your life sweetie.” She pointed the gun toward the aunt and uncle, who put their hands up.

            Ignoring that they were at gunpoint, their niece approached them, arms out, eyes pleading. She wanted to change them.

            “Please…stop this…you can change…!” she gave a weak smile.

            Before they could respond, gloved hands grabbed them both by the heads. The niece ran forward to save them, but Emily had to grab her by the waist to avoid her being captured as well. The scarecrow and its victims vanished into the maze of trees, their screams being broken off with a sudden snap. Not tending to the girl, she looked to the sheriff and professor.

            “It has its sacrifice. You can go home now.” She stared them each in the eyes.

            Sam approached her and carefully took the gun out of her hand. She didn’t really seem to care. As the professor and sheriff ran away, Dean used this moment to initiate the comforting process of his Impala. He inspected it carefully while Emily stood up the other Emily, who was very shocked and pale faced.

            “I’m sorry…” She whispered to her.

            Sam gave them a hug, his sister hugging him back the longest.

            “I missed you, Sam…” she mumbled into his coat.

            The fire that burned in those frantic eyes had left her; bringing back the normal sibling he knew.

 

**Morning**

            That morning, at the orchard, the trio was led to the tree for it to be burned. Using plenty of gasoline, Dean did the honors of setting the tree aflame. Afterwards, they met up with the Blonde Emily to see her off at the bus station. She still looked shocked, but she knew that she had to leave the town. Emily was last to see her off. She gave her a hug and a nod, which meant “Get out of here now, before I make you get your name changed”. While the girls were administering goodbyes, Sam and Dean were standing by the Impala.

            “It’s good to have you back, Sam. Couldn’tve made it out of there if you hadn’t showed up. Thanks.” Dean patted his shoulder.

            Sam gave him a smile and opened his arms when he saw his sister jogging back to them. She gave him a big hug, which was followed by a punch in the arm.

            “Don’t leave again, that was scary.” She pouted, then smiled.

            The bus had left, leaving the trio alone to their time as a family. They all entered the Impala in their usual seats, exchanging random looks and gestures through the mirrors. They said goodbye to the messed up town and drove off on their way to the open road.

 

**Impala**

The whole ride, Emily cupped the phone in her hands, staring at the screen. She seemed to be very uncomfortable. She had her earbuds in to try to relax, but she seemed nervous anyway. Dean could hear the music from where he was sitting, so he knew she wouldn’t be able to hear them if they talked about her.

            “Sam. We gotta talk about this.” Dean became serious suddenly.

            “What?” he looked at his brother.

            “Emily’s been getting some interesting texts and calls.”

            “Wait, from who? We don’t have her number.” Something clicked in his brain. “Is it from people in her past?”

            “Most definitely. And she looks like that” he gestured to her pained expression, “every time she looks at her phone. This could be bad news.”

            Sam looked back at her, and to a surprise, she was looking right back at him, tears refusing to leave her eyes.

            “Emily, what’s wrong?”

            Her voice was wrecked with emotion. “We have to go to Pennsylvania.”


	4. The Happy Broken Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Racing to a small town in Pennsylvania, the brothers find a small hunting colony living in a customized duplex, which is also the previous home of their sister. In this home, they find Emily's previous caretaker dying of a mysterious illness that nobody is able to explain, and all translations for a possible cure are sporadic. While the colony hunts for a cure, Marcus, the dying caretaker, lets Dean in on some information not meant for anyone else's years. The brothers also learn more about Emily's past before she met them.

Dean stopped the car, resulting in the siblings to lurch forward in their seats. Emily took her earbuds out and wiped her eyes aggressively. Sam and Dean looked at each other, unsure what to do.

“Only if you tell us who’s been contacting you.” Dean looked back at her.

Sam seemed to have a change of attitude, suddenly appearing more supportive to his younger sister. She looked at them and nodded. Dean proceeded down the road, looking back to wait for Emily to talk.

                        “The people from my colony have been trying to get through to me.” She started.

                        Sam kept looking at her through the mirror. “How many people are in your group?”

                        She counted on her fingers. “Five. Not including me.”

                        Sam looked at the road, it would probably take an entire day to reach Pennsylvania. No breaks either, by the expression on her face.

                        “What’s the issue, though? Why now are you going back?” Dean gripped the wheel.

                        She was silent, she clearly didn’t want to answer. A notebook and a pencil were pulled out of her backpack. It was opened, she wrote down an address on a piece of paper. Tearing out of the notebook, she passed it up to them. She obviously wanted to dodge the question for now. Dean decided to ask again later. Sam took the piece of paper and pulled out their road map.

                        “You know we have to know eventually, Emily…” Sam said.

                        She nodded and spoke softly. “I know…” she looked up from her lap. “I want to wait until we get there, so I can have you soak it in yourself.”

                        They both nodded. Sam cleared his throat. “Alright. Next stop: Topton, Pennsylvania.”

 

            The night was long and painful. But it was only that way for Emily, who laid in the backseat with tears streaming down her face. She was a Capricorn, so naturally she thought of worst case scenarios. Her head was filled with blood, but not in the literal sense. The images were bloody and sad. The last person she truly loved to death was on their death bed. She covered her eyes with her blankie, she didn’t care if her brothers saw it whipped out now. She didn’t let her nose blow those bubbles you get when you’re crying for a long time, she kept her stuffiness to a minimal low. Smiles flashed by; group photos, birthday parties, school, father’s day, picnics, her first driving lesson. She allowed herself to roll into a ball to try and cry herself to sleep, but that obviously didn’t happen. She tried to focus on her brothers talking, which eventually stopped her tears. She uncurled herself, allowing herself to stretch out. She supported her head with the blankie now, using it as a pillow while she looked out the window across from her. Soon she would see a new highway, or possibly a new constellation pattern. She forced herself to think of the present, not the looming future. She yawned, she hadn’t slept in what seemed like days. She finally allowed herself to sleep.

            Six hours later, Emily’s eyes popped open as the Impala went over a pot hole. Half of her body, her upper half, fell out of the seat. She heard Dean growl something up in the driver’s seat.

                        “God damn country roads, fix these holes in the god damn…”

                        “Well, if we couldn’t wake her up, that must have.” Sam laughed.

                        She pulled herself back onto the seat, stuffing her blankie back into her backpack. She stretched and let out a yawn as Sam looked back to her. She waved, rubbing her one eye.

                        “We’re almost there, you woke up just in time.” He turned back to the road.

                        “Oh did I now? Fantastic.” She cracked her back, then her neck.

                        “Morning, sunshine. Or should I say Country Bumpkin?” he smirked.

                        She faked puking noises. “Ever call me that again and I’m running you over with Grant’s motorcycle.”

                        “I thought you said you stole it…?” Sam asked.

                        “He called dibs, so we kept it as his…” she lost her sentence.

                        She rolled the window down, getting the lovely scent of corn fields. Delicious. The wind felt good on her face, she knew they had purposely gone the back way to get to Topton. At the moment, they were going through Amish country. There were little shops everywhere that sold sick kittens and lovely handmade cream and cheese. There were houses in the near distance, they were getting close. She brushed through her hair, trying to look like she didn’t just sleep on a car seat. They went over another pot hole and Dean started to swear again. There were plenty of people out in their yards, even some teenagers that could have recognized Emily. She kept her face hidden, she didn’t want anybody to see her. The set of familiar, winding turns was up next. Across a corn field to her left was a brick high school, not too incredibly fancy. Finally, before their eyes, was a busy bustling street. There were one way signs everywhere, but Emily guided the Impala to safety. There was a left, two rights, around the block one time, then to the gas station to get a hotdog. From there on, it was a straight road across the railroad tracks, then another right. In front of them was a parking lot to a type of flat, a house that was split for two families. Dean parked the car and Emily got out first. She looked up to the porch; there was a chair sitting on a roofed porch, the chair was next to a door that led inside. Interesting how nobody was sitting in it. She slowly approached the door, well, one of the doors. There were two of them. But she knocked on the screen door that led to a wooden door. There were footsteps racing down a staircase, and then some sort of screaming. The main door opened to reveal a short girl with even shorter blonde hair and a paisley shirt on. She looked like a Beatle in a way. Her eyes widened a bit and her mouth opened. She turned to shout upstairs.

                        “OI! SHE’S HERE, SHE’S COME HOME!” she raced back up.

                        Taking that as their invitation, the brothers stood on both sides of Emily, letting Emily step into the home first. She walked into the main room that was next to a kitchen, a medium sized dining area. More thumping was coming from upstairs, most likely from the others. She led the way just as the girl came back down, suddenly surprised to the sight of Sam and Dean at her sides. She backed up the stairs, not knowing what else to do.

                        “Who are they?” she asked sternly.

                        “Just let me call a meeting.” She escorted Sam and Dean to the living room, couches to their leisure.

                        She stood on top of the coffee table and cupped her hands around her mouth.

                        “ISN’T ANYBODY HERE GONNA GIVE ME A HUG?!” she screamed at the top of her lungs.

                        A door opened down the hall, a ginger boy who looked about eighteen ran into the room and beamed at the sight of her. From upstairs in the attic, a boy came running down who looked about twenty, his hair was black and spiked, not severely spiked, just enough. The girl sat down in a chair in the corner of the room. From outside, there was a boy who ran up the stairs, off the porch, from the other end of the house. His hair looked like Dean’s, only black with blue streaks in it. His toothy grin revealed his sharp teeth, like a shark. Emily hopped down from the table and made them all take a seat.

                        “Guys, this is my colony. Colony, Sam and Dean.” She introduced them, like a proper host.

                        They all said hello, except for the shark looking one.

                        The girl spoke first. “The name’s Ringo. If you go in my room next to the stairs, I’m gonna punch you in the throats.” She was not kidding around.

                        The ginger boy spoke next. “I’m Steven.”

                        The oldest boy stood with his arms crossed. He had a scar running down his face, his eyes looked dangerous. His voice matched his eyes’ description.

                        “I’m Shawn. Don’t fuck around with the stuff in my room or your body will go up in flames.”

                        The shark one stepped the closest to Emily, who crossed her arms now. “And I’m Kyle. The one who probably is the only concerned one of the bunch. But then again, which one’a you was the one I heard over the phone?”

                        Dean stood up. “That’d probably be me.” He sounded a little too threatening.     

“Then I’m gonna repeat what I said on the phone: Who the almighty fuck are you?”

Sam stood up too. “We’re the Winchesters.” He put his hand on Emily’s shoulder. “And she’s our sister.”

                        The rest were silent, Ringo dismissing herself to her room. She closed the door behind her and muttered “I won’t be part of this”.

                        Steven and Shawn looked at each other, uneasy. Kyle just began to laugh at the top of his lungs.

                        “So you found them, huh? You don’t need us anymore then.” He turned to walk away.

                        “Kyle—’’ she was cut off by a hand on her shoulder. It was Sam.

                        While looking down, Dean spoke. “I thought you said there were five members in your colony. Where’s number five?”

                        Kyle looked back, eyes wounded suddenly as he looked to where he came from, outside.

                        “Follow me.” He ordered.

                        Emily was shaking. Kyle had not explained well enough over the phone what was wrong, why exactly she needed to come. She was thinking of the worst case scenario again. Following Kyle out the door to the porch, he led the way down the steps and around the house, to the back. There was a whole other section to the house, and Emily knew it. She knew the house like the back of her hand. The house was all to themselves without another flat next to them because the other family was dead. Sam was in the back of the line out of the four of them, Emily following Kyle the closest. The door to this end of the house was opened, exposing a different layout. There was a set of stairs to her right.

                        “You know where he is, Em. He’s in the same room.” He told her.

                        She nodded, scared. She didn’t want to go up the stairs. She breathed slowly, in and out, taking each step one at a time. Each step was like a mountain, but she traversed it like a champion. At the top of the stairs was a hallway. One room was to her left at the end, while two rooms were to her right. The room closest to her on her right had light creeping out from under the door. She pushed the door open and she felt the footsteps of the boys behind her. Her face sunk, her heartbeat skipped and she almost stopped breathing.

                        “Marcus…” she whispered, walking in the room.

                        In the room, which was dimmed, was a man lying on a bed. He was incredibly built, he made the twin bed bend a little. There was a desk and a television on the opposite wall from it. A closed laptop sat on the desk, along with pictures. She didn’t want to get distracted by that, she had to keep walking to him. His black t-shirt was stained, she couldn’t tell if it was his tea or his blood. His face read that he was incredibly worn out. His black hair was incredibly messy, it must have been two days since he last showered. His right eye was covered by an eye patch, which is why his room was always dimmed. His boots were by his bed, so was the blanket that must have been covering him up. She kneeled down and sat on her knees, taking his hand. It was clammy, unpleasant to hold.

                        “Why does everyone here have black hair…?” Dean thought aloud.

                        “Dean!” Sam hissed.

                        Kyle walked up behind her. “He broke into this after Grant…and after you—’’

                        “Shut up, Kyle…” she whispered, cutting him off.

                        She rubbed his hand, trying to get him awake with possibly warmer hands.

                        “We might have hit a breakthrough, though. That’s why I called you here.” Kyle seemed more chipper.

                        Instantly, she popped up like a daisy. “What? What can I do?”

                        “We need demon blood. We gathered the rest of the stuff for the potion, so it seemed fair that you would get the last ingredient to save his life.” He explained.

                        “How long do I have?” she was incredibly serious.

                        “Three days.”

                        She clenched her jaw, looking back down at Marcus. “I’ll go at nightfall.”

                        Dean stepped forward. “Hey whoa, can someone tell me what’s going on? Demon blood? What’s a demon?”

                        Kyle laughed. “What’s a demon he says.”

                        “Get out.”

                        The three of them looked at Emily. “What?” they asked in unison.

                        “Get out.” Her shoulders bunched together, her body shuddering from crying.

                        Kyle pushed the brothers out of the room. He gave them both a threatening look. Leading them back down the steps, he pushed his hair back nervously. From the steps, he turned right, leading them to his room. Sam was stopped at the bottom of the steps, looking back up at the room they left her in. He sighed and followed Dean, who looked at Kyle with such a hate it was incredible. Even though Kyle seemed like a bad person, his room was wonderfully gigantic. There were weapons hanging from the wall all over the place, a flat screen on one wall, and some naughty magazines...which he stuffed in a drawer. He pulled out two chairs from his closet for them to sit on.

                        “The group is touchy with this subject. So I’ll tell you what I know.” He explained, pulling out an old coffee from the gas station.

                        The two sat down in the chairs. Dean looked pissed off, while Sam looked incredibly confused.

                        “Marcus, the guy up there? He’s our leader. And she’s like his daughter. She dated his son for god’s sake, they were the closest family here. I’m assuming she spilled the beans about Grant, which explains the looks on your faces. After Grant was killed and she went to the asylum, Marcus went into an instant downward spiral.”

                        “Wait, asylum?” Sam stopped his story.

                        Kyle’s mouth slowly evolved into a smile. “She didn’t tell ya.”

                        “Tell us what?” Dean was leaning front, hands on his knees.

                        “The asylum came to get her after Grant was killed. She seriously didn’t tell you this? I figured as much.”

                        Sam looked at Dean, wide-eyed, then back to Kyle. “She was at an asylum. For what, she clearly isn’t crazy!”

                        Kyle, ignoring Sam, continued his story. “When Marcus fell into this spiral, he got sick more often. He still tried cases and stuff, but he wasn’t the same. His kids were down for the count and he felt like it was his fault. This illness he has now though, this is new. The diagnosis was in Greek, and we don’t know Greek, we were just able to pick out ingredients to a medicine. Em is the last step.”

                        Dean stood up. “I’ve heard enough from you. I want to hear the story from everyone else.”

                        Kyle shrugged. “They’ll tell you the same things. Ringo won’t talk much though. She hates conflict. Get out of my room, you smell like gas-station hotdogs.”

                        Dean led the way out, waiting for Sam at the foot of the stairs. Sam joined him after the slam of a bedroom door.

                        “What do you wanna do?” Sam asked with a sigh.

                        “We’ll confront Emily about the asylum later, but for now, we need to talk to the rest of the Scooby gang here.”

                        “Sounds like a plan.” Sam put his hands in his pockets.

                        They each left that section of the house, Sam closing the door behind him. They ventured back around the house, Dean upset that there were more stairs to climb. When they went through the door, they were only greeted by Steven, who was sitting on the large couch behind the coffee table. He had a cup of something in his hands, looking expectantly up at the door.

                        “You’re the only guy with not black hair. I’m very glad for that.” Dean gave him a thumbs up.

                        “If I cared about my hair color or what people said about it, I would have dyed it black a long time ago. It isn’t ginger either, just look at it. It looks orange.” He replied.

                        By closer examination, Steven was right. His hair had some sort of an orange glow to it, something that didn’t make it seem just ginger. He took a sip of whatever was in the cup.

                        “Steven, we wanted to ask you a couple things. You know, about…what’s going on?” Sam stepped forward.

                        “I figured.” He sat back. “The famous Winchester boys and their dad, John. You would just hate to be left in the dark about the newest edition to the family.”

                        “Wait, did you know?” Dean asked.

                        “Marcus told us when we first brought her in. We were all about thirteen, except for Shawn of course. He was fifteen, very emotional time for him.” He looked up, seeing they didn’t really care about that last part. “Anyway, yea, we all knew.”

                        “Tell us about…what happened that night.” Sam proceeded.

                        Steven winced slightly. “With Grant, am I right? Fuck, guys…”

                        “We know you were close to him too, and we’re both really sorry for your loss, we just…want to know.” Sam went on.

                        “Grant knew their plan wasn’t gonna work.” He looked at his cup.

                        “Really? How do you know?” Dean sat on the table and folded his hands over his lap.

                        “He left me a note. It was written in, like, wet pencil or pen or something…he knew it on the battlefield. He knew he made a miscalculation and it all went to shit.”

                        “The note was for you?”

                        “In the coat pocket. I still have it, I kept it…nice and safe…” he took another sip.

                        Dean looked to Sam. They were thinking the same thing, but Sam asked it.

                        “Does Emily know?”

                        “No. I couldn’t hurt her like that. There was another letter too, but it was addressed to her. For when she was happy again. She’ll find it if she goes in his room, which she might.”

                        Dean got up. “Awesome. I’ll go stop her from walking in the room of the deceased.” He left out the porch door again.

                        As Sam was getting up, Steven stopped him.

                        “How is she?” he didn’t look at Sam.

                        “What do you mean?” Sam asked.

                        Steven grabbed his arm. “Has she moved on?”

                        Sam shook his head. Steven didn’t see, but he could tell what his answer was. He let go of his arm and set the cup on the table. It was empty.

                        “There’s me when she’s ready. Sam, if anything happens…bring her back here. Okay?” he looked up at him finally.

                        Sam nodded, slightly confused at what he was getting at when it came to her moving on, but he promised to bring her back if something happened.

                        “You better.” The look in Steven’s eyes was terrifying.

 

                        Dean headed up the steps to the hallway of rooms where Marcus and Emily were. The door to Marcus’s room was still cracked open, so he went past that and went to the room on the right of it. The room down at the very end of the hall was locked, he assumed that it was Grant’s room from when he was still alive. He pushed open the door, to which he was greeted to a plush cylinder with a plunger and whisk for hands.

                        _“YOU ARE AN ENEMY OF THE DALEKS, YOU MUST BE DESTROYED!”_

“What the hell?!” the plush toy was talking in his face.

            “Aw man, I wanted it to say ‘EXTERMINATE!’.” Emily pouted and pressed the plush again, trying to make it say what she wanted.

            “I thought you were with Marcus.” He stepped into the largely-scaled room.

            “I wanted to let him sleep. And hey, I haven’t visited my room for a while.” She threw the plush on the queen-sized bed.

            The room was lined with…stuff. Posters, band t-shirts, drawings, picture frames that were broken or the pictures had been cut out. There was a walk-in closet which held plenty of plaid and striped shirts. There was the occasional graphic t-shirt in the lines of hangers. The desk had a lot of drawing supplies and papers. There were little doodles hung up, along with lists of anime references. Snow globes and trophies lined the top section, beginning to cover in dust. She put her hands on her hips and waggled her eyebrows at him.

            “Whaddaya think? Cool room huh?” she smiled.

            “It’s very…detailed.” He crossed his arms.

            “Yea. We all had good times and I just kinda…kept the memories. All over my walls. We went to a lot of concerts, hence the shirts. And I like television.”

      “Good, we need more of those around here. All we’ve got is Sam’s research-hungry head that doesn’t appreciate fine cuisine such as television.” Dean explained.

            He walked over to the wall and pointed to a yellow and white shirt, it had the logo of a band that he hadn’t heard of before. It must’ve been newer.

            “That’s from the Rise Against concert.” She said, her tone dropping to a depressed mumble.

            “Never heard of ‘em. When was this?” he wasn’t looking at her, keeping his eyes on the shirt.

            “A year ago when Grant took me to it.”

            Dean turned from the shirt to look at her. “Oh.”

            She started pointing to shirts around that one. “Steven took me to a Bad Republic concert, Kyle took me to a Disturbed concert, and Shawn and I went to an Offspring concert.” She started to smile again.

            “I’ve heard of Offspring.” He crossed his arms. “You’re more metal than I am.”

            “I want to take Ringo to something she likes. But she likes Beatles and The Doors, you know, oldies. I can’t find stuff to take her to. So I buy her mugs.”

            Dean was suddenly on the fence about this confrontation. She was walking down memory lane with him, in which he didn’t know if that was good or bad. Bringing up the asylum could ruin her spirit, especially before allegedly going to hunt a demon, which Dean still needed more information on. The whole situation has been confusing since they stepped foot in the door.

            “I know why you came up here, Dean.”

            He swallowed. “Oh do ya?”

            “Yea, you’re curious about Marcus. You think the group is sketchy, you wanna know about who leads us.”

            An unfamiliar voice to Dean spoke at the door, it was deep and gruff. It also caught Emily by surprise.

            “And who better to tell you than the man himself?” it was a male who spoke.

            Leaning against the door was Marcus, clearly unhappy and uncomfortable in an upright position. He looked Dean straight in the eyes for a long time, to show that he wasn’t welcome in his household. Dean was transfixed on his height; the man’s head could touch the top of the doorframe, which is when he realized that he was hunched over so he could fit.

            “What are you doing awake?! Get back in bed, lie back down, you need rest! You need it now!” she was doing her best not to panic.

            “You know better than to yell at me. And calm down, I’m not dead yet.” He said ‘yet’ to clearly get her back into perspective.

            “So you’re the big man. I figured we weren’t going to get a talk with you.” Dean countered Marcus’s eye contact with his own.

            “Emily, I want you to help me get your brother to understand what’s going on here. Come along now.” He turned to balance on the hallway walls now.

            Emily followed him like a dedicated soldier, straight faced and serious, arms at her sides. She even wrapped her arm around his waist and helped him to walk by adjusting her shoulders beneath his armpit. Clearly, with how tall he was and the amount of muscle he had, she had to have an incredible amount of strength. Dean followed behind them with a challenged look on his face, his teeth grinding together until the slow commute to Marcus’s room was finished. She helped him sit down, too. He looked more comfortable sitting down, he even breathed as if he had just ran a marathon. Emily was between them, leaving enough space for them to make more eye contact. When Marcus had established regular breathing again, he asked Dean to close the door.

            “First of all, Emily, tell me how much you told them.” He was perfectly calm.

            She opened her mouth to say something else, but she ignored that and told him what information Sam had taken from her laptop.

            “Sam found the file on my computer you passcode protected, they also looked through my ID’s and credit cards. I told them about how I had amnesia at age ten on a mission.”

            He sighed irritably. “If you keep talking, you’re going to confuse the story. You’re leaving holes again. Don’t talk again. In fact, go back downstairs and tell Kyle to arrange a discussion with Sam. One brother should be briefed on where they’re staying the next three days.”

            She nodded and a bead of sweat dripped down the side of her face. The door was closed behind her, leaving Dean and Marcus alone.

            “We’re not staying here for three days. That’s nuts. She’s gonna get whatever job she has here done and then we’re leaving.” Dean challenged, chin raised to look superior.

            “Idiot, she won’t feel secure until I’m completely cured. If you want to know the story, you best be quiet and let me tell it.”

            Dean cleared his throat and remained quiet.

            “Thank you.” He coughed, then wiped his hand on his pants. “It is in fact true that she developed amnesia on a mission. When she was only ten, the orphanage she was staying at allowed her to do her hunting activities; with a guardian of course. The guardian was a hunter from the church to watch her progress. On the mission, she was bonked on the head by the same person that _killed_ her guardian in those woods. I know because I took the same mission. I found the guardian’s body, so I went to investigate. A man was standing with her, more like over her, and he was trying to act nice. She was upset about her head hurting and not knowing where she was, I decided to remain in the shadows so I wouldn’t be noticed. The man had black eyes, that’s the only unnatural thing I got off of him. He handed her a wallet. Not his wallet, it must have been her guardian’s. It had her papers inside it, so he told her her name, age, birthday, where the orphanage was, anything he got from those papers. One thing that was strange was that he asked where her brothers were. That was fishy, because brothers might care for a ten year old sister instead of leaving her in an orphanage. He took her back and left her there, while I went home to do some research. That man was a demon, he had black eyes and, well, reeked of sulfur. Eight months later, I returned to the orphanage to check on her, I thought she was dead in all honesty. It turned out she made monthly trips to that forest. I returned every few months, suspecting that she was some sort of demon prey. Or something worse. Finally Grant noticed I was taking trips out in a pattern, so he said to bring the job home with me so we could deal with it. That night I went into the woods to see the demon, and hopefully kill it. I arrived to see them waiting for me, he said he expected me to come. He had a knife up to her, she was clearly very scared but she knew how to keep calm. She had learned in two years. He smiled at me, with this horrible grin. It was disgusting. Then I felt like I was having a heart attack, my chest burst into pain and I could only fall over and struggle. I thought I was about to die. All for a child I thought was demon prey, whom I didn’t even know. That’s when she spoke. She told him to stop whatever he was doing. But he said the damage had already been done…which I know now will be the end of me in three days.”

            Dean interrupted. “What do you mean?”

            “The demon gave me a warning before he released her to me. He said when she realizes her blood I will die. That she was a Winchester. That she was going to be great. I didn’t know what that meant but it didn’t matter, he had vanished with that horrible grin. I was able to stand and I took her home with me, which began her stay with the colony. She attended school with everyone else, she made friends. But she was also a hunter, it was in her blood. Then Grant took a romantic liking to her and I saw her blossom with him. She’s like my daughter. I know who she is but I don’t understand why you don’t. Then I remembered that your mother is dead. So it is still scientifically puzzling to me.”

            “Why are you telling me this?”

            Marcus looked Dean in the eyes. “Because you need to know what she is capable of. You need to find out why she was inseparable with that demon and why it took a liking to her.”

            “Why didn’t you?”

            “Because it didn’t matter then. It matters now.”

            “Why?”

            “Because I’m going to die.”

 

In the living room, Sam was chilling on the couch while Emily was in the process of biting her nails. Kyle was examining the whole process, whole-heartedly wishing she would leave her nails alone. The only thing that could truly be heard, besides her teeth chipping the nail, was Shawn’s music coming from upstairs. The bass shook the picture frames on the walls, Kyle’s eyebrow’s creasing in utter annoyance.

                        “So what’s this about?” Sam broke the ice.

                        “You have to know where you and your brother will be sleeping.” Kyle explained, not taking his eyes off the stairs to the attic.

                        “Sweet, and where is that?” Sam clapped his hands together.

                        “The basement.” Emily answered for him.

                        There was a pause. “The basement?”

                        “There’s no other free rooms.” Kyle said.

                        It was obvious that Sam wanted to protest to the idea. He almost did until Kyle growled and made his way upstairs. Kyle’s complaints such as ‘you know I have sensitive ears!’ and ‘turn the damn music down!’ were able to be clearly heard over the large amounts of bass. Kyle’s footsteps roared above what was left of the lowering music.

                        “Now then, I can tell you have questions.” Kyle rolled his eyes.

                        “Yes. May I see this potion recipe?”

                        Kyle’s eyebrows raised, obviously not expecting a research question. He nodded and took him downstairs, to the main room that paralleled the kitchen. As Sam walked down the stairs, he glanced to the side to see Ringo looking through her cracked bedroom door. She pulled away immediately. He turned his attention back to Kyle, who took him through the kitchen.

                        “The book is in here, which will be your room.” He explained.

                        He opened the door and turned the light switch on, the room flooding with light. The room looked like it used to be an old food storage freezer. The shelves were converted into book cases and there were plenty of books to choose from. Two cots were set up in the center, obviously for Sam and Dean. Kyle took him to the closest bookshelf and pulled out a thick and heavy book. Clearly it was old, it even smelled of aged paper. There was a ribbon as a bookmark, dictating the page the potion was on.

                        “Alright, come to papa…” Sam muttered as he took the book in his hands.

                        He opened the book to the marked ribbon. An escapade of Greek laid before him, causing his stomach to drop. He only knew some Latin, not Greek.

                        “Are you guys set up for wifi?” He asked, eyes squinted at the characters of letters.

                        “Yea.”

                        “Good. I’ll be using it.” He walked out of the room, into the kitchen.

                        “You gonna get the info on this potion? It was a shot in the dark, nothing else matched the diagnosis.”

                        Sam turned around. “You’re guessing.”

                        “Yes, we’re guessing with this.”

                        “Why does this require Emily’s help? What can she do?”

                        “Em can track demons with her eyes closed. She knows where all the nests are, who the vessels are. Why? It’s like a personality test. If they reek of sulfur when they hit the john, or their eyes fluctuate when they sneeze, she knows it.”

                        With the last bit of too much information, Sam made his way back upstairs to begin his research.

 

                        Marcus’s door was still closed, she could still hear them talking. In front of her was a closed door. It hadn’t been opened in eight months. Her heart was beating fast, clenching her hands into fists multiple times in order to calm her nerves. The golden doorknob awaited her hand, she reached out to greet it. That’s when she heard the door behind her open, so she spun around in surprise, trying to hide her hands behind her back to conceal what she had almost done. Dean nodded to Marcus, closing the door behind him. He was surprised to see her when he set eyes on her.

                        “What are you doing?”

                        “Nothing.” She shrugged, hands still behind her.

                        They locked gazes, Dean trying to crack what secrets were left stored away inside of her. She held her eyes steady. He knew she was trying to get into Grant’s room.

                        “Marcus and I had a long chat. Including that potion we’re making.” He continued his gaze.

                        “I’m going to get the last ingredient.” She suddenly turned harsh.

                        “We just got here, Emily. We should wait a little, you know?” that was a wrong move.

                        “Excuse me? Wait? When he has two and a half more days to live? No fucking thank you, I’m going after that demon blood.” Her eyes were vivid and angry.

                        “Not tonight. You have to promise you won’t go after it tonight, I want to know what you’re up against.”

                        She glared and squinted her eyes at him. “Sounds fair.”

                        She continued to stare him down as he slowly made his way down the stairs, instructing her to come with him. It was four-thirty.

                        “I’ll get there.” She hollered.

                        She looked at the door again. Just one twist of the knob and it’d be open. In her peripheral vision, she saw him leave through the door. She twisted the knob with a fast motion, fingers hardly gripping the sleek golden surface. The door flew open, a wave of axe deodorant wafting into her nostrils from the left over canisters laying on the floor around the bed. Her eyes beheld the dark room of Grant. A lot of black, but not the ‘goth black’, it was just the ‘boys’ obsession with dark colors black’. Plaid comforter and pillowcases with posters lining the walls. Rifles and hand guns were held in a trophy case, along with souvenirs from hunts. Pictures lined his walls between the shirts and fake wolves tacked to the plaster. The photos were taken by a mixture of everyone. The door creaked to a close behind her. Across from her at the end of the room was a desk. There was a closed laptop. The blinds of the above window were cracked open, so the rays of dimming sunlight shone through, the little dust particles were seen drifting through the air. The dust made her sad. The jacket hanging on the bed post made her even sadder. The rough but soft material felt familiar on her palms. The interior was covered in fuzz. That soft and warm fuzz that makes the jacket also look cool. The pockets were buttoned shut, making her even sadder because her man-hands were no match for feeble buttons. She lifted it off the bed post, holding it close to her. On the bed post was ‘scarecrow’ engraved into the wood. She smiled because she understood the reference. He named his guns, and Scarecrow was his first. She slipped the jacket on. It was about a size too big, but she liked that. She forced tears back and forced a strategy to come to mind. Acting quickly, she closed the door and pushed the lock in. Nobody could get in until she got back, not that anybody besides Marcus would want to come in. She opened Grant’s closet and flipped the light on. The demon arsenal was straight ahead of her, along with a devil’s trap on the floor. She grabbed his old duffel bag off the floor and loaded it with everything she needed, that being his old purple war paint. She lined her cheeks with purple before leaving what was left with the knives and ammunition. She already had plenty she needed. Opening the gun cabinet, she looked at Scarecrow. It was a hunting rifle, which was perfect.

                        “I’m using Scarecrow, okay? I’ll save him for us…” she whispered aloud.

                        She grabbed it and tucked it in the bag, along with a liter of holy water. Swinging the bag on her shoulder, she walked to the window and pulled the binder’s cord. The shades flew up and the sunlight burst in with a blinding shock of white light. She pulled the window open and perched herself off the edge of the second story window. The phone in her pocket vibrated with the alarm. Five-o’clock. She leapt off the perch and onto a delivery truck delivering for the pizzeria across the street. From there, she jumped onto the street and made a mad dash for main street, which would be the ticket out of Topton. The sun was setting and field hockey would be ending soon at the high school. She ran across the railroad tracks and passed salons and elderly people smoking cigars on their porches, tossing a wave to them as she ran past. To the right was the elementary school, but she decided to make a swift left instead, which was the one way street to her one way ticket. Past a bar, she turned right and began to sprint up main street. She moved from the road to the sidewalk as cars began to come up behind her. At the gas station they were at earlier, she made another right past the eye doctor and one of her friends watering the flowers. She didn’t see her, thankfully. At the T intersection, she ran across the crosswalk and finally up into the back roads where the trees started. The rest of this run would be uphill. At this point, she understood that Dean and the others were suspecting her absence with cooking dinner. She didn’t care if Dean and Sam were mad at her, they were hardly a part of this story between her family. Up a portion of a hill, there was now a straight away along Woodside road, only a few more minutes away from the home of the demon she was planning on killing. She slowed to a jog, her breathing was beginning to take advantage of her. There was just one more turn and a slope down to the driveway. She paused to catch her breath, checking the time. It was five-thirty. Sweat was dripping down her face, so she pulled it back into a high ponytail. She began to run again, taking the turn uphill with a sprint and jumping off the hill to land on the lower terrain. She turned into a different driveway than her target’s, it would be too simple to just waltz into the home. Lucky for her, the home had a staircase up the back to the target’s porch, allowing her to sidle her way into the bedroom. Before taking initiative, she took a stash of bullets out with the holy water. She dipped each bullet into the water, then filling them into the barrel. Grant did this all the time with demons, and it worked almost half the time. Those were statistics she was willing to take. Her weapon now prepared, she made her way up the stairs and onto the porch. Now the porch also held a large glass door, where those on the first floor could see up. She didn’t take chances sidling around the easy way, past the door, she went the long way around the house. She gripped the siding to keep her balanced on the wood line that lined the house on all sides. She saw the neighbors on her side pull into the driveway. They were bound to see her through the thicket of trees, so she tried to go fast. She felt a corner and precariously sidled around it. There were two more sides she had to sidle on. Her hands were beginning to blister from the dirty siding. Around the other corner, she was almost home free. Suddenly she felt the window. She looked in, target was on her bed on her ipad. Using the butt of her rifle, she smashed the glass and broke through into the room. Surprised, the girl jumped off the bed and dropped her technology. Now scraped with bits of glass, Emily pointed the rifle to her target.

                       

            “I knew it, I knew it!” Dean repeated while pacing around the dinner table.

            “I figured at this point you would know enough to understand she does what her heart tells her to.” Steven responded, cutting into his steak.

            “What was I supposed to do, just tell her that she should ignore her dying adult?!”

            “You’ve done worse.” Sam looked him in the eyes.

            After a threatening yet alarmed glare, Dean zipped his lip, allowing Sam to go back to reading. Everyone at the table was quiet, except for the clinking of silverware. Ringo and Sam were the only ones with large salads, the rest of the group digging in on steaks and macaroni and cheese. The only place at the table that was empty was Marcus’s spot. Dean peered up the steps, thinking that maybe Emily or Marcus would make a sudden guest appearance. Perhaps there was some possibility she hadn’t gone to kill herself for a dead man. Kyle had finished devouring his steak first, dabbing his mouth after letting out a large burp. Suddenly, the sounds of coughing could be heard upstairs. Ringo dismissed herself to check on Marcus, disappearing up the stairs. Dean hadn’t sat down nor touched his food. Shawn, sensing his lack of hunger, stole the steak from his plate and began eating it himself. Dean, appalled, gawked at him with wide eyes.

            “Do you mind?” he asked.

            “Yea. It’s cold enough dude.” Shawn replied.

            More violent coughing could be heard upstairs. This time, Steven went to go take a look, and he was back down the steps in a matter of seconds.

            “Guys, he’s coughing up blood.”

            They had moved Marcus to the living room for easier access to his dinner, which was now soaked in blood on the wood floor.

            “Em isn’t back with the blood yet, we have to stall!” Kyle shouted, skipping three steps at a time going upstairs.

            Sam was flabbergasted. “I thought he had three days?!”

            Dean knew, but he couldn’t say anything. It wasn’t his place to.

            Shawn stood up. “His pills?”

            “Back in his room, now what?” Steven answered, stepping aside for Sam to dash upstairs.

            “We gotta get him back to his room, we can’t have blood get all over the living room. And plus, his pills are there.” Shawn replied, now disappearing upstairs.

            Dean followed Shawn and Steven followed Dean. Marcus was coughing up blood all over the floor, but they all knew they had to get him back to his room. Kyle picked up is phone and dialed the only number that he could. Emily’s speed-dial.

 

            Not knowing how else to react, the girl raised her hands above her head. “Em, what the hell?”

            She scoffed. “Please, is that some sort of pun?”

            The girl sighed and blinked, her eyes turning completely black. Letting her arms down to cross over her chest, she smiled smugly.

                        “How long have you known?” she asked.

                        “Since Sydney Oswald suddenly became left-handed. And you gave yourself away that one time in art class. During the oil painting? That wasn’t paint you were talking to, dude.”

                        Sydney shrugged. “So what do you want? I’ve kept this pretty down low. I didn’t do anything wrong.”

                        “I need demon blood.” The rifle was pointing at the head.

                        Sydney started to laugh. “The only blood you’re receiving is yours down your throat. You see, this girl is a vessel. Still as human as it gets.”

                        “That may be true, but the dad isn’t.”

                        With that, the door was swung open by a tall, muscular man who looked a lot like Wolverine. Eyes pure black. Emily moved the rifle from Sydney to her dad.

                        “Dad, this is Emily,” Syd looked to her. “The hunter.”

                        Like a bull, her dad ran forward. Out of muscle spasm, Emily pulled the trigger and watched him fly back. Steam wafted out of the chest wound, causing some serious pain to the now wounded demon. The target was no longer Sydney.

                        “Shit…” she whispered, sensing her dad was falling to another teenager.

                        Emily whipped the bottle of holy water out and splashed it on her before she could escape. She splashed some on the dad while she was at it. Seething with pure, agonized anger, Sydney’s black smoke escaped through the mouth of the vessel.

                        “Fuck.” Emily whispered as the smoke evaporated into the ceiling.

                        The father, now lost without his daughter, made another mad dash at her. Emily dodged it this time, the trigger wasn’t pulled. However, this demon was stupid. Strong, but incredibly, stupidly slow. His recoil gave her enough time to aim and fire at his head, a small squeal coming out of her mouth along with it. That rifle had quite the kick-back. The demon flopped to the ground with a thud, black blood pooling out. Emily grabbed a vase off Sydney’s desk and used it as a container to hold the blood. Instead of sidling back around the house, she ran down the stairs to go out the front door. Without a doubt, the neighbors heard the noise and gunshots. On her way out, she progressively heard the Oswalds’ phone ringing. She was too focused on being seen. The answering machine held the strangest voicemail.

            _“Tonight is the night.”_ Then the end tone beep.

            Eyebrow raised, she dashed out the door and answered her own cell phone, running around frantically to find a bicycle. Stealing a car was too obvious.

            “Thank god you picked up.” It was Kyle.

            “What’s up? I got the blood.”

            “Marcus. He’s shutting down.”

            Heart stopping, she almost dropped the blood. Bicycles were simply not fast enough, she needed to steal a car.

            “I’m on my way, you have to stall it!” she practically screamed.

            “He says it’s his heart? His heart is killing him. Emily, you have to bust your ass.”

            She hung up and broke into the demon dad’s vehicle. She wired the engine on and revved out of that goddamn driveway. Around the corner and back down the mountain she went.

 

                        Sam was trying his damndest to get a grip on the situation. The potion made no sense, the symptoms were supernatural, and everyone wouldn’t stop panicking. All he knew at this point was that the mixture had to get put together. He stopped Steven before he could run past him.

                        “Steven, you have to get the ingredients ready. When Emily comes through that door, she has to add the final thing and she’ll be like a rabid wolf.”

                        Steven nodded and passed the message onto Shawn, who also nodded and went through with the request. Marcus was in agonizing pain. It looked like he was having a heart-attack, but more gruesome. The pills he took stopped some of the bleeding, but his agony was still apparent. The book read, he guessed, that the potion would cease heart seizes and should calm the tissues in the organs. So far, Sam figured that was the best help Marcus could get right now. He couldn’t stay in that room, Dean wasn’t even in there. Dean was sitting on the floor next to him.

                        “How did we get into this, man…” Dean asked, looking down the steps blankly.

                        “We got a sister.” Sam answered a bit sassily.

                        “What if the guy doesn’t make it? Then what?”

                        “What did you do, Dean?”

                        “What do you mean?”

                        “When mom died, how did you grow up?”

                        Dean didn’t answer. He used the groans from in the room to act ‘horrified’. Kyle stepped out, cleaning blood off his hands.

                        “We need that potion made. Now.” He said to Sam.

                        “I think Shawn’s on it.” He responded, looking up from the book.

                        Grant’s room opened, revealing Emily holding the vase full of blood. She was on the fast track now, looking in on Marcus only to go faster. She paid no attention to her brothers, she ran down the stairs to meet up with Steven and Shawn. They were both mixing the ingredients in a big wooden bowl.

                        “Thank god.” Steven smiled.

                        She didn’t say anything, the crease her mouth made was not broken in any aspect. She dumped the blood into the bowl and all three of them stirred. Shawn read out a scrawl of words, making the potion complete. Steven held a cup for Marcus to drink from, Shawn and Emily poured the concoction.

                        “Emily.” Kyle stepped in. “He’s shouting for you.”

                        That broke her. She took the cup and sped back upstairs and nearly ran over Dean and Sam. There was Marcus, lying in bed, gripping his bandana in his mouth to try to get through the pain.

                        “Marcus, Marcus, here, I brought the potion. Here, give me this…” she took his bandana.

                        Everybody packed into one room, waiting.

                        He was gasping. “Emily…”

                        “Sshh, no, drink this.” She tipped the cup at his mouth. “Drink it, dammit.”

                        He drank until she allowed him to stop. “Sam, how long?”

                        “What?”

                        “How long until it fucking kicks in!?” she screamed.

                        “Right away. I think.” He no longer held the book.

                        Marcus was no longer bleeding, he no longer wailed in agony. He looked up at her with a redeemed peace that made his heart swell, metaphorically.

                        “I’m…I’m so proud of you…” he touched her face.

                        She let a few tears out and grabbed his hand gently. They were freezing.

                        “You’ll be fine now, okay? You’re gonna be okay.” She forced a smile.

                        When she said that, the light in his eyes turned dark. Even from a distance, everyone else could tell he wasn’t going to be okay. There was no hope inside his body.

                        “No…” he whispered.

                        Her stomach flipped. “What?”

                        His finger traced her tears. “Sorry…”

                        She placed his hand down and felt for a fever, if that would help anything. He was smiling. Emily’s heart picked back up into a panic.

                        “Marcus?” her eyes were wide open.

                        The muscles in his face were loosening, smile fading away.

                        “Marcus? Marcus, hey. Hey!” she started slapping his face to keep his eyes open. “Come on now. Stay awake.” Her voice was giving out.

                        His voice was cracked and soft. “So proud…”

                        This made every sensory nerve, every organ, stop functioning. Her hands shook.

                        “Hey! Nononononono, Marcus, hey!” she shook him now, looking around. “Do you need more blood, huh?” she took a knife from her coat pocket and slit her wrist. “I’ll give you more blood! Hey!”

                        Kyle spoke. “You’re not giving him anything…” he tried to touch her.

                        “GET AWAY FROM ME!” she punched Kyle while getting him off. “MARCUS! YOU CAN’T FUCKING DIE! YOU CAN’T LEAVE ME ALL ALONE!” she wailed.

                        Shawn turned, head hung low, and walked out. Ringo followed, along with Steven.

                        “DADDY NO!” she began to sob into his chest, clutching his shirt.

                        Sam couldn’t take it. He left the room with Dean, leaving Kyle alone in there with her.

                        “Em…” he was so choked up.

                        “GET THE FUCK OUT!” she wailed, slamming her fist against the wall.

                        He jumped in fear and swiftly left the room, closing the door behind him.

                        Sobbing, she clutched his shirt tighter and held his bandana. She had been holding it the entire time. She screamed so high-pitched, nobody in the world should be able to scream that loud.

                        “DADDY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

 

                   Everyone sat in the dining room. Their plates still had food on them, but it was freezing cold. They evacuated that side of the house because the sadness was unbearable. Steven was shedding tears, Shawn had his arm wrapped around him to give him some sort of comfort. Ringo had evacuated into the kitchen, trying to fight the urge to burn herself on the oven while making a pie. It was one of those misery pies, to ignore what had happened for as long as possible. Even Kyle had to wipe his tears away so he would look more manly, or at least somewhat more put together.

                        “What now?” Dean had his head hung.

                        Kyle stared him down. “You think I fuckin’ know what to do?”

                        “No. I don’t. But this case is over. We’ll rangle her up when she’s done and we’ll go.”

                        Kyle was bewildered. “CASE? Do you have no fucking sympathy? She just lost the closest thing she’ll ever have to a father. _Your_ dad is fucking alive; this man was her real dad. Not that faggot that you all are related to. Winchester my ass. That girl deserves to be a Wilson, more than a fucking Winchester.”

                        Dean looked up threateningly. “Our dad isn’t a faggot. Don’t insult him.”

                        “Or what, Ken doll? You gonna kill us too? You know what, get out of our house first thing tomorrow morning. Get the fuck out and never come back.” He threw a plate of food at him.

                        Sam was spectating until the plate of food. “Hey now. Kyle, we’ll sleep out in the Impala tonight. If Em wants to come with us tomorrow, she can. If not…take care of her.” He turned Dean towards the door.

                        Unwillingly, Dean let Sam take him to the Impala. When the door closed, Kyle let his emotions leak out, breaking plates and screaming at the ceiling.

           

            Some farm down the road had a rooster that obnoxiously cock-a-doodle-dooed when the sun came up. It wasn’t like anybody was really sound asleep anyway. Ringo’s pie was sitting on the table, where she also sat with her Gameboy color. Pokemon Crystal sat in the cartridge slot, but the cartridge was broken and there was no save feature. She never asked Emily to fix it, because she didn’t even know if she wanted it fixed. Sometimes she liked playing the same hour or so over and over again. It didn’t bother her much. In May, it’s hard to distinguish how far into daylight savings time the world was. Are the days getting longer or shorter? Either way, it was hard to get out of bed any day, daylight savings or not. Her fingers tapped on the table to Pink Floyd. Listening to ‘The Wall’ before going to sleep causes vivid dreams, so nobody should have to bear an experience like that. Experiences like that aren’t different to any event in the real world, everything mixes together. Has she told her best friend this? Yes. However, Emily had this spiritual sense that she belonged somewhere else, always having a song from ‘The Last of Us’ in her head and thinking she meant something. Ringo knew she herself didn’t mean shit. Neither of them did. They both faced loss, they both are meat suits walking around on some planet that was meant for apocalypse when someone went all biblical and released Satan or something. That cherry pie sure looked good though.

            “Ringo.” Said a voice at the door.

            She turned to see Sam. He looked tired, but then again, most people did. He looked up the steps, hoping to see his sister, no doubt.

            “Getting ready to leave?” she asked.

            “Yea. I figured I’d say goodbye and then we’d leave. You guys have been…nice. Well.” He arched his brows, indecisively.

            “I have something for you before you go.” She said, standing up.

            While Sam put his hands in his pockets, Ringo rushed back to the kitchen to retrieve a folder. She placed it on the table when she returned. Sam looked at her curiously.

            “What is that?”

            “Her medical records. You two never solved your mystery.” She set the pie plate on top of it, as if to conceal.

            Sam nodded. “Of course.” There were creaks upstairs.

            Ringo, whilst handing him the pie and folder, leaned in and whispered, “When she’s busy, she forgets over time.”

            “What?”

            “The pie is for Dean. He looks like he’d have a sweet tooth.” She glanced up the stairs.

            “Okay, are we ready…?” squeaked a fragile voice from the top of the stairs.

            Sam turned to see his sister with an additional backpack, along with another duffel than the one she usually owned. She looked so tired.

            Ringo helped her with the backpack as she came down. Emily looked so different. Any spunk in her face had disappeared, being replaced with a ghastly look of despair. Her hair was up, not down.

            “What is that? In your hair…” he asked.

            A whisper. “His bandana.” She walked past him and out to the car.

            It was too early for this. Well, it was always too early. It was too bright to keep her eyes open all the way.  Well…it was always too bright, too. In the world, there are certain people who beg for mercy in their lives. They want people to help them. Sometimes, those same people want to be in the dark because a cloud is more peaceful than the light. Clouds are an easier cushion. Though made of water, there is still something there to catch them, so they drown. Sometimes that’s the easiest option of them all; to drown. The Impala’s trunk now had several more bags to carry. Now she had more clothes and things to read, now she had things to do. She walked around with her mouth partially open, her eyes low and her posture wrong. All was wrong. She seemed to stumble, that kind of stumble when the body is weighed down by disbelief.

            _Are you sure I’m not dreaming?_

A voice in the back of her head always answered this question with “I’m sorry.” It was never hers.

            Ringo stood there. She was never good at goodbyes. Or talking. But that was okay, because neither was Emily. She gave her friend a hug.

            “Come back soon, please.” Ringo asked, clearly uncomfortable. She didn’t like hugs.

            “Okay…”

            “We’re both a little crazy.” She added when she pulled away.

            Emily nodded and took that as an opportunity to get in the car. Dean had been ready to go with only one goal in mind. John.

            “Okay, Sam. Time to go find dad.”

            Sam nodded.

            As the car rolled away, Emily’s head rested against the window. She attempted to wave, but Ringo gave her one handed attempt.

            Emily smiled and cried.


	5. Sweet Dad of Mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heartbroken and damaged, Emily voyaged with her brothers to Illinois, where, while trying to keep her occupied, there was a case. However, when past friends meet, Emily begins to realize she can sense something nobody else can. Meanwhile, John shows up to the party and truly expresses how he feels about his new daughter. Even though the boys like her, will John share the same sentiments?

**Impala, Somewhere USA**

            Sam was eating some of the pie, of course with Dean’s permission first. Dean had kept his promise to Sam; they were going to look for dad. The problem was getting him to accept not only Sam, but the sudden addition to the family. Sam glanced into the back seat; Emily was still lying on her back with her ear buds in. She looked drained, she hadn’t slept since they left that house in Pennsylvania a few hours ago. There was another thing biting at him, and it involved what Ringo had given him in a thin manila folder. He didn’t know when to whip it out to his brother and say “Oh hey I have her medical file”. Dean had been dead set on finding dad. Sam always knew that Dean was practically his little soldier, but something back there must have triggered something in the back of his head. Maybe Dean was more appreciative that they still had a parent, seeing what they saw just a day before. Sam wasn’t emotionally affected, either. It made him feel rude. That wasn’t their fight, it was hers, and it made him feel awkward. He just kind of…felt _bad_ for her. But as a brother, he supposed it was his job to step in to provide some sort of guidance, even though he had none.

 _When she’s busy, she forgets over time._ Ringo’s words repeated in his mind like he was supposed to act upon them. The red glaze in his mouth danced over his tongue as he fiddled around in the back of his head for an idea.

            “Hey Dean, we should take a case.” Sam blurted out without realizing first.

            He saw Dean look over in the corner of his eye. “What?”

            “Well, ya know, if one pops up on the way while we look for dad.” He just sounded like a blabbering fool in middle school at this point.

            “Last I remember, you _shouted_ at us that you wanted to look for dad while we started a case. Here we are, lookin’ for dad, and now you want to bail on that?”

            “Not bail, just…have a case. It’s been awhile.”

            “Right.” Dean went back to squinting at the road as he drove. When they went past a highway sign that read “Leaving Ohio”, he spoke again. “Wake her up so we can talk about it then.”

            Sam licked the pie crumbs off his lips and looked at him, slightly amused. “She isn’t sleeping, Dean.”

            “What?” he looked in the rear-view mirror to see her eyes open, not snoozing.

            They looked at each other awkwardly. Oops.

            “You know what I really want?” her voice pierced the veil of awkward. “I wanna be a fucking Pokemon trainer. Fight Gary. Take his damn Blastoise out with my Charizard and shout ‘Fuck you, douche nozzle, wanna make out?’. Then I’d be the champion.” She was covering her eyes with her one elbow as she spoke. It turns out she only made things more awkward by talking about kissing animated characters. 

            “Uh.” Dean started.

            Sam intervened quickly, “Dean and I were thinking of doing a case when we hit, uh…” Illinois was the first state he heard on the radio just then. “…Illinois.” He swallowed.

            She was silent for a minute. Sam was scared, scared that she knew he was bullshitting or scared of the fact she’ll possibly start crying. Again.

            “Sounds good, Sam.” Her tone was cracked and monotone, which to Sam, was a good sign.

            “Well, great! Hey, uh, you want some pie that Ringo made for us?” Sam offered.

            “Made _ME._ ” Dean corrected.

            “Nah, nah. I’m just going to try to sleep. Wake me when we get there, okay?” she rolled onto her side.

            She wasn’t going to sleep.

 

**Chicago, Illinois**

Emily knew they were in Chicago when Sam tapped her calf to ‘wake her up’. She had stared at the leather seats the whole six hours and twenty minutes it took them to get there. It only took so long because there was some sort of traffic disturbance at around eleven p.m. And they obviously had to pass through all of Indiana, which is some sort of feat in itself. Have you seen Indiana? Emily was the master of faking her ‘wake up sequence’. All she had to do was make some sort of weird moaning sound and stretch her double-jointed elbow to the side for full effect. She then flexed her toes and allowed her jaw to stretch all around the world in a huge yawn. The last part looked so damn fake, but it worked perfectly every time.

            “Yea, hey… I’m awake…” she rubbed the ‘sleep’ from her eyes.

            “We’re in Chicago.” He was looking at her calf, eyes perplexed. “Your calves…are rock solid…”

            “Yea, want me to flex them?” she took absolute pride in her calves.

            “They weren’t even…?” he whispered, turning away.

            She smirked. Besides her hair, her calves were her babies. Sitting up straight and cracking her back, she was able to see the full frustration in Dean’s eyes as they…sat in traffic. Emily pulled her hairbrush out of her backpack and proceeded to brush her hair. Dean looked back at her.

            “Hey! No hair on my seats!” he shouted.

            She blinked. “I got it.” She answered sarcastically, rolling her window down and throwing excess hair into the mass ocean of other vehicles.

            Dean grumbled as the slowly made their way through this molasses. Emily reached down to pick up a hair tie. She didn’t grab a hair tie. She grabbed a bandana that was freshly hand washed and scrubbed, the blood stains were too hard to get out so they just were there, faded. Her smile vanished instantly and her eyes lowered. If eyes were truly the gateway to the soul, you would see nothing in her eyes. She sat up straight, put her seatbelt on, and left her hair tied up in the crumbled memories of her caretaker. Neither of her brothers noticed this change in attitude at all. It was about their dad, after all.

            “We’re going to the first motel we see, guys.” Dean said, anger protruding in his voice.

            Sam nodded and looked at the map. Highways, highways, highways! Illinois is wild with highways, but there are those places like Rockford that are nicer, they actually have parks. Why couldn’t they go to Rockford? While Emily had been ‘asleep’, Sam and Dean found a case. In Chicago, no less! What luck, Sam wouldn’t have to bullshit anymore. Dean pulled a power move into a nearby side street and successfully got the Impala into a motel lot without a scratch. Incredible. Emily was the first one out, by surprise, and she went right in. She pulled her fake credit card out and waved it so the boys could see it. She just had to get away from them. In the meantime, Sam whipped the manila folder out of the glove compartment and pulled Dean back into the car as he was getting out.

            “Sam!” he shouted as he landed back in his seat.

            “Dean, not so loud. I need to show you this.” He placed the folder on the middle console.

            “What’s that?”

            “Emily’s medical records. Ringo gave it to me.” He started opening it.

            Dean laid a hand on the folder before opening it. “Wait, back up. You have her med records? From _where?_ ”

            “That asylum, I guess? I dunno, Ringo kinda wanted me to read it.” He opened it.

            The file was thin, but it wasn’t scarce. The report was very lengthy, incredibly lengthy in small print. Dean squinted at the file to just look at the picture. It was incredibly off. Her sister had bags under her eyes, her mouth was open and her hair was pulled back a little too tight. They took the photo while she was screaming.

            “Why would she be screaming?” Dean whispered.

            “It says… ‘Incredible signs of post-traumatic stress disorder, possible amounts of extreme depression.’”

            “Is our sister crazy or some shit?” Dean asked, suddenly disturbed.

            “DID I HEAR THE ‘C’ WORD?” they heard her shout from the front door.

            Sam closed the file quickly and sloppily, shoving it back in the glove compartment. Emily made her way over to the car with their room key.

            “We’re on the top floor, room at the end of the hall. I like my privacy. You’re welcome. Credit card fraud isn’t easy, you know.” She complained, credit card now back in her wallet.

            Wait. She had a different wallet now.

            “That’s a nice wallet. Where’d you get it?” Dean asked.

            Sam knew. Sam even looked at him, wide-eyed. Ignoring the question, she got her bags out of the car. The wallet matched the duffel bag. Black and purple.

            Outside Motel, One P.M.

It was Sam’s idea to get the alarm company uniforms. Dean had his own little fit about that, but it was all about the case now.

            “According to the paper, Meredith’s alarm didn’t go off and all the windows and doors were locked. It looked like an apparent animal attack.” Sam explained.

            “Because animals can morph through walls.” Emily added sarcastically.

            Dean had a wedgie for the fourth time since they put their uniforms on. Emily wore sophisticated makeup to look a bit more like working age; work along the lines of alarm maintenance, not some kid playing dress up. They packed up what they needed and lugged it back down the stairs and out to the Impala.

            “Someday people will second guess an Impala holding FBI agents or alarm workers. Just wait.” Emily monotonely stated, loading bags into the trunk.

            “Don’t be such a pessimist.” Dean replied, starting the engine.

Meredith’s Apartment

        Dean turned Baby off and all three of them proceeded out of the car. Emily looked up at the array of apartment buildings.

            “I hate the city.” She mumbled.

            Dean still had woes about their outfits.

            “Sam, I’m _telling you_ , Dad and I did fine without outfits.” Sam ignored him. “I feel like some kind of drama dork.”

            “Hey. Drama’s fun, loser.” Emily replied, walking into the building first.

            Sam ignored them both. Dean smiled. “Weren’t you in a play or something? Yea, Our Town. That was cute, you were good.”

            “Dean please.” Sam entered behind their sister.

            Dean shrugged in defeat. “What?”

            Emily was already shaking hands with the landlady. She had an eerie way with people, she also had an incredibly fake smile. The landlady began leading them upstairs. When she wasn’t paying attention, Emily leaned over to her brothers, fake smile on her face, and whispered.

            “This bitch is pretentious as all hell.”

            Dean held his hand over his mouth while Sam hit her, which made her laugh. The landlady, thank god, didn’t look back to notice the fuss.

            “Okay, here we are…” she said, opening the door.

            Dean walked in first. “Thanks for lettin’ us look around.”

            The landlady looked around. “Well, the police said they _were_ done with the place, so…” she looked at them curiously. “You said you were with the alarm company?”

            Dean let Emily walk around to inspect the windows. “That’s right.”

            The woman laughed. “well no offense, but your alarms are as useless as boobs on a man.”

            Dean and Sam exchanged a look, while Emily didn’t so much as crack a smile.

            Sam looked around now, squinting a little. “Now, you found the body?”

            She nodded.

            “Right after she was killed?”

            “Oh, no. Meredith’s work called saying she hadn’t showed up. I came up and I noticed…the smell.”

            “Ew.” Emily whispered.

            Dean gave her a look and continued. “No signs of break in?”

            She shrugged. “Door was bolted, I had to cut the chain just to get in.”

            “Any overturned furniture or broken, well, anything?”

            The woman shook her head. “Everything was fine, except for Meredith.”

            “How funky was it?” the golden question, of course asked by Emily.

            “She was in pieces. The guy that killed her was obviously some kind of whackjob. But if you ask me, I say an animal did it.”

 Emily gave her brothers a look. They returned it.

    “Do you mind if we give the place the old once-over?” Dean asked.

    “Of course. Take your time.” the landlady put her hands up and scurried out of the room.

    Clapping her hands, Emily cracked a window open and peered over the ledge, then turning her head to look up at the rest of the building. Dean looked at Sam, who had brought along their EMF, and gave him a nod.

    “So a killer walks in and out of an apartment without a trace.” Dean crossed his arms. “Emily, get away from the window, you make me nervous.”

    She pulled herself out of the window and closed it. “Sorry.”

    “I knew as soon as I saw this in the paper, it would be our thing.” Sam waved the EMF around.

    Sam was half-lying. He only wanted to come here for the initial reason of getting her mind off of what happened. He said Illinois because that was the first state he heard on the radio. And then, by coincidence, this case was in Chicago. It did work for them, so that was the truthful part. This case is out of the ordinary. As he was about to say something to Dean, the EMF began beeping frantically.

    “Bingo.” Emily said, walking over to them.

    “This is definitely us.” Dean confirmed.

    “Time to use my handy-dandy cellphone.” Sam dialed a number in.

    “Talking to the pls?” Emily asked casually.

    They both gave her a look. “The what?”

    She gave them an annoyed stare. “I just shortened the word ‘police’.”

    “Right.” Sam asked, the dial tone now ending. He shuffled to another room.

    “ _Hello?”_ the voice asked.

    “Hello, this is Agent Lee from the FBI. I’m calling about the attack on Meredith Hauck, she was killed in her apartment.” Sam made his voice deeper and more professional.

   

   

    Dean was analyzing the floor and carpet, or attempting to, while Emily was desperate for something to do. She wanted to be the one to call for the autopsy, hell, she could have gotten the autopsy report, but no, Sam had to be the one to make the phone call. A phone call, from ‘the FBI’, for an autopsy report. She knew it, she knew she should have gotten her own car for this case. She crossed her arms, annoyed.

    “Hey, next time we see Ringo, I gotta tell her she makes a wicked pie.” Dean said.

    “She bakes a lot.”

    “Do you have her number? We could call ‘er right now.”

    “I could call, but she doesn’t like picking up her phone.”

    With that, her cellphone began to ring. She reached inside her uniform and pulled her cell out. Her jaw dropped.

    “Nuh-uh.” she laughed.

    “What?”

    She showed him the phone. “It’s Ringo.”

    She slid the ‘answer’ button and looked at Dean while speaking.

    “ _Hello?”_ Ringo started.

    “Hey, why you calling? What’s up?”

    “ _Did you like my pie_?”

    “We were...JUST talking about that…” she mouthed ‘wtf’ to Dean.

    “ _So you liked it.”_

    “Yes.”

    “ _Cool.”_

    Ringo hung up, leaving Emily to stare at the phone screen. As she put her phone away, Sam wandered in as he finished his conversation. His lips were creased and his eyes read their own description of ‘wtf’.

            “What’d the lady say?” Emily asked.

            “How’d you know it was a woman?” Sam asked, confused look on his face.

            “Girls know everything.” she waved her hands in a ‘mystic’ fashion.

            “Anyway, what’d you find out? Anything new?” Dean put his hands on his hips.

            “No, nothing different; except for the only thing they’re keeping out of the papers. Meredith’s heart was missing.” Sam’s eyes widened when he put emphasis on ‘heart’.

            Emily’s eyes brightened. This was her department. Now they’re talking.

            “Maybe it’s—’’

            “Werewolf?” Dean cut her off.

            She popped her head between the two of them. “I think—’’

            Now Sam cut her off. “No, no, the lunar cycle isn’t right. It could be a spirit, a creature would have left a trace.”

            She massaged her temples. “The floor, just look at—JUST LOOK AT THE FUCKING FLOOR.” She shook her hand at them while using the other one to pinch the bridge of her nose.

            They both looked down to the floor, to her foot pointed at a stain on the rug. She glared at Dean. He completely missed this stain pattern. So much for attempting to analyze. They all exchanged glances, hers just angry.

            “Get some duct tape and connect these stains.” She rolled her eyes and dismissed herself to another room.

            Sam did exactly that and let Dean guide the lines. The lines connected and overlapped, some more than others. In the end, when the tape was done tangling and sticking to unnecessary parts of carpet, an unusual symbol was made. Sam had no idea what to make of this.

            “Dude, have you seen this before?”

            “If you haven’t, I haven’t.” Dean looked up at him.

            “Emily!” Sam called into the other room.

            She walked back in. “What?”

            He gestured to the symbol. “You seen this before?”

            She made her way over slowly, hips swaying as if she knew what she was about to see, arms crossed, mouth part open. When she finally stood in front of the symbol, she stood there for awhile. She squinted and bit her tongue. She knew she had seen it somewhere. She had no idea where.

            She snapped a picture of it and sent it to Ringo.

            _“U know what this is?”_

**Bar, 8:00 P.M.**

        Emily was pouting and slumping in a chair, across from Sam, who had a leather-bound journal out and on the table.

            “Why are we at a bar.” It was hardly a question, just a demand for an answer.

            “Because, there was another connection to the case that included a bartender.” He looked up at her clearly disapproving face. “Oh come on. It isn’t that bad.”

            Her eyes were wide and her mouth was a flat, creased line. “I’m seventeen I DO NOT FIND A BAR PLEASURABLE.”

            He looked back to the journal. “You can get some lemonade later. We’re on a case.”

            She didn’t know whether to be offended or just to crease her mouth tighter and make him feel like shit with guilt. She’d do that some other occasion. Dean pulled up a chair with a cocky grin on his face.

            Sam looked up. “You get anything? Besides her number.”

            Emily looked at her brother in disgust.

            He slid a napkin forward and rose his eyebrows. “Totally.”

            Sam looked back down. “You should think a little more with your upstairs brain, Dean.”

            “Ugh…” she stood up and walked away. Not the best decision, being underage at a bar.

            “Where you going?” Sam called.

            She just put her hand up and kept walking away. She couldn’t deal right now. She knew why they dragged her out on this case instead of going to find their dad. Sam thought she would get distracted.

            “Sorry Sam, but you can lose your dad to see how it feels…” she whispered angrily.

            She felt like they didn’t particularly care. Nobody in her life really cared about any event that happened in her life. She wanted to be alone, and the more she strayed away from her brothers, in that bar, the number she felt. Ringo hadn’t messaged back about the symbol, so she just figured she wouldn’t even get a reply back. She sped-walked around tables and through small get-togethers of people, being oddly shy about it at the same time. The issue with having Emily’s face is that she looked one year younger than her real age. This doubles the fear of being yelled at while being in an adult place like a bar. She swarmed with depressing thoughts. She even began biting her nails.

            “I can’t do this…I can’t…I can’t do it again…” she was feeling Grant’s wallet in her pocket.

            She accidentally bumped into somebody and the immediate fear of yelling set in as she felt her toe step on the other person’s toe. She inched backwards apologizing perfusely.

            “No, no, it’s okay.” The person, a woman, tried to calm her down.

            Suddenly, a smell blasted her nostrils. Her eyes widened.

            _This smell…_

            She looked up at the woman before her. Blonde, short-haired, like a pixie cut. Not the tallest in the world, but that didn’t matter. It was this girl’s scent that threw her off. It was the smell of Hell. She stared, dimwitted, into this girl’s face, purely wide-eyed.

            “Can I help you?” she asked, smiling.

            “I…”

            A strong hand stopped her sentence, it felt like Sam.

            “Meg.” Sam gulped behind her.

            “Sam!” the woman named Meg gleefully shouted.

            Dean made his way up behind Emily and Sam, clearing his throat in attempt to get them to notice him. Meg looked at Sam with confusion and a twinkle of delight in her eyes, once again putting off a harsh vibe for Emily. The scent this woman was giving off wasn’t a bad or putrid smell, it isn’t like dog dung in your neighbor’s backyard. It was that kind of old smell, that kind of smell that only someone’s home would smell like. While they don’t notice their own homey smell, you do. This smell of an old house, on fire may we add here, was incredibly strong. Meg continued to smile at Sam.

            “I can’t believe that’s really you! Oh my goodness, what are you doing here?” she gave him a hug.

            Sam partially returned the hug. “Just…uh, visiting some friends.”

            “Oh?” she looked around the bar, “And where are they?”

            “That isn’t important, you know? I just want to know what you’re doing here! I thought you were in California.” Sam used his fake happy voice. That in itself was unsettlingly fake.

            “Got tired of the scene. Popped in and out, took some heads, just figured I’d chill here for awhile.”

            _Took some heads?_ Emily thought to herself.

            Remembering she was still awkwardly between them all, she ducked out of the crowd and shuffled her way next to Dean. He was, of course, trying to get Meg’s attention.

            “Who is this?” Meg asked.

            “Oh, uh, this is Dean. My brother.”

            “Oh, so you’re Dean.” Her tone turned sour.

            He smiled. “That’s me.”

            “I’ve heard of you. Nice—the way you treat your brother like luggage.” She spat.

            “What?” he asked, clearly confused.

            “Why don’t you let him do what he wants to do? Stop dragging him over God’s green earth!” she yelled now.

            When she shouted, Emily saw the faintest bit of black in Meg’s irises. She was right.

            “Guys—” she tried to speak.

            “Whoa, Meg, it’s okay.” Sam pulled Dean farther away while he whistled in disbelief.

            Emily was getting annoyed with the amount of cut-offs she’s received throughout the day. More importantly, she was about to be left alone with a demon. Sam walked back over.

            “Em, come with me to the bar…” Dean called back, feeling quite upset.

            Her expression read “THANK YOU” with wide eyes as she walked over to her brother. They both made their ways to the bar, where Emily remained a bit of a way behind the tabletop. Dean got a beer from the bartender he was talking to earlier. The woman let Emily sit on a stool if she promised not to drink anything. That made her a little annoyed.

            “Don’t worry, I have no intention of drinking anything.” Emily replied, sitting down.

            The woman walked away to leave the two alone. This was another occasion in which her and Dean were solo. She waved her feet while sitting on the stool and looked around at the neon lighting on the walls. Dean looked really upset. It was obvious had said some pretty bad things to that girl, saying things that made Dean look like a bad person. Honestly, nobody likes being the subject of discussion when it comes to that, so why must it happen at all? He finished his beer pretty quickly.

            “That was awkward.” He said matter-of-factly.

            “Dean.” Emily looked at her hands on her lap, remembering Meg’s scent.

            “Yea, what’s up?” he sniffed and rested his head on his fist.

            “I get a bad feeling about that girl.” She confessed, looking him in the eye.

            He sat up straight. “Why?”

            “Well, I think she’s—”

            She was once again cut off by Sam. “Ready to go?”

            Dean nodded and hopped off the bar stool. Emily was left to sit there with her mouth partially open and determination fleeting from her eyes. She slowly slid off her stool and walked throughout the bar. Her brothers were already out the door, but she knew they were arguing. She knew Dean was going to bring it up again. She got that smell again as she was leaving, in fact, it came from behind her. She turned to see Meg making her way towards her. She was smiling.

            “I never got your name, sweetie.” Meg said, stopping in front of her.

            Meg was at most one inch taller than Emily, she already being 5’8”. So being called ‘sweetie’ was not one of Emily’s strong suits.

            “I’m Emily.” She didn’t smile.

            They locked a stare for a few seconds. Meg’s smile warped itself from happy to slightly sinister.

            “Well, _Emily_ , I’ll be seeing you and your brothers again. I certainly hope I get to see you first, we can get to know each other.”

            “Right.” Emily turned away and left through the doors.

            As she felt that demon’s stare on her back as she left, she rubbed Grant’s old wallet to calm herself down. She approached her brothers as they were having a conversation.

            “I met Meg weeks ago, literally on the side of the road. And now, I run into her in some random Chicago bar? I mean, the same bar where a waitress was slaughtered by something supernatural? You don’t think that’s a little weird?” Sam was saying, obviously concerned.

            “A coincidence, it happens.” Dean replied nonchalantly.

            “Okay, Sam, you went AWOL like maybe a week ago, not even dude.” She stopped. “How many days have I been riding with you?” she asked, completely off topic.

            “I dunno, two weeks? Maybe? Anyway, that proves my point. It wasn’t that long ago, Dean. Now she’s just here.” Sam continued. “There’s just something I can’t put my finger on about her.”

            Dean smirked. “I bet you’d like to, though. I bet she isn’t even a suspect, you just have a thing for her.”

            “Ew.” Emily left to the Impala.

            “You’re thinking too much with your upstairs brain, Sam.” He shouted to her. “You too!”

            _Excuse me?_ She stopped walking.

            “You both have to lighten up a little bit.” Dean laughed with that cocky smile of his.

            She clenched her fists into tightly coiled balls of fury. “You expect me…to ogle and romance…after the days I…the days I have FUCKING HAD?” she turned around.

            Ignoring her, again, Sam suggested they split up. “I’ll go watch Meg. You get back to the motel and look up if there really is a Meg Masters in Andover, Massachusetts.” He went to the Impala with Emily, Dean followed in suit. “Also, look up that symbol. I’ll drop you at the motel while Emily and I go after Meg.”

            “…I’m going too?” she tried to act calm.

            “Yes. You’re better at…identifying.” Sam gave her the thumbs up.

            That didn’t excuse them for anything.

 

**Outside Meg’s Apartment, Impala, 11:00 P.M.**

            Sam was on the phone, with Dean it sounded like. Emily was in the passenger seat, sitting in the car outside of Meg’s apartment building. It was kind of awkward, creeping on a demon girl thing that would most likely start changing at the window like in some cliché romance movie. The apartment had some sort of lingering scent that matched Meg’s. The whole street reeked of Hell. A question struck her: How did she know what Hell smelled like? It was one of those smells you don’t remember why you know them so well. It was becoming overwhelming, it gave her a headache. She closed her eyes and tuned in to what her brothers were talking about over the phone.

            “Any luck on that symbol?” Sam asked, annoyance in his tone.

            There were some long murmurs on the line. Emily had good hearing, but she couldn’t hear that far away from the ear of a cellphone.

            “What’s a Daeva?”

            Emily’s eyes popped open. “Demons of Darkness.”

            Sam gave her a look and mouthed ‘Like a pitbull?’. Emily nodded yes. He nodded, bottom lip folding like a dog in satisfaction.

            Daevas. Emily smiled; this was beginning to get interesting.

            “So where do these things come from?” Sam asked.

            “You gotta summon them. Someone’s being the puppet master behind all this.” She reached in the back seat for her phone. She had a new message from 30 seconds ago.

            _“Daeva. Dude, what kind of hunt are you on?”_

What the hell, how was Ringo doing that? Just…calling and texting with relatable things out of the blue like that. There’s a real player behind the scenes that knows their stuff. Daevas are ancient as hell.

            Sam hung up. “According to Dean, these Daevas are pretty ancient. Ancient as hell. And he doesn’t know what they look like, whoops.”

            Shit. She didn’t know either. “I don’t trust this Meg girl. She has this scent on her, it just isn’t right.”

            “Scent?”

            “I have a thing with demons, Sam.” She asked, blank stare in her eyes.

            “Right.” He looked up at the window and immediately looked uncomfortable.

            “Changing in the window?”

            “Yea.” He turned away.

            A woman was walking up behind the car, looking disgusted. Emily smirked and told Sam to duck.

            “Hey, pervert—’’ the woman started.

            Innocent-eyed, Emily spoke for them. “I’m sorry ma’am, this isn’t what it looks to be. Our spark plug is busted and my big brother is trying really hard to fix it. Don’t yell at him, please.”

            In the back of her head she laughed. The woman looked more at ease and walked away.

            “Dumbass…” she snickered when she was out of ear-shot.

            “Good thinking.” Sam complimented, sitting back up.

            They high-fived. In the middle of the laughter, Emily pushed him down again. She ducked as well. Meg was coming out of the apartment. She was smart; she was wearing flats to make it really hard for Emily to hear the footsteps. Sam peeked when Emily gave him a nod. Meg was walking in the opposite direction. Sam opened his door and quietly followed, Emily following at his heels. Converse doesn’t exactly make a loud noise. Not too far along down the street, there was a large warehouse littered with graffiti. Meg looked around cautiously, Sam and Emily pinned themselves behind a parked car. Peeking over, Sam saw her pull open a camouflage door that looked to be just a wall. Quickly behind, they scurried to the door and followed inside. Emily was sure not to slam the door. The stairs were old, but thankfully they weren’t creaky. They reached the top, but the door inside was locked.

            “Shit.” Emily whispered.

            Sam looked around, he smiled and pointed to an open elevator gate. “Got good upper arm strength?”

            “Uh…”

            Sam hopped off the steps over the railing and entered the elevator shaft. The sides of it provided a good ladder, allowing Sam to get some good hand and foot leverage. He began to climb.

            “I uh…will I fall?”” she asked.

            His grunt was an answer enough. She concluded she had to go up, but she might cry in the process. She grabbed a cold bar. It was uncomfortable around her smaller versions of Sam’s monstrous man hands.

            “May the angels save me…” she whispered while beginning to climb.

            It wasn’t a long climb for Sam, he didn’t think too much about it and he actually had the perfect arm strength. Emily had the physical strength, she just didn’t have the mental strength. She went too fast sometimes, nearly slipping, and then slowed down indefinitely. Sam was already at the top. She swore to herself and forced her brain to stop thinking for just a few more minutes. She could hear Meg talking, that must have meant she was almost there. That’s when she realized there was hardly any room to hold on next to Sam. She just tried to wing it, fitting like a puzzle piece in front of Sam, pressed between the metal and him.

            _Sup bro._ she thought, arm muscles quivering while hanging on.

            The room was filled with candles. This was definitely an altar room. Upon closer inspection, a black table was in the center of the room, with a dish resting on top. It had a reddish tint to it on top of the golden paint. Like a blood stain. Meg was already in the room, pacing around and talking to herself. Sam was listening intently, but also watching for her to look their way.

            _Why do guys wear such thick jeans they must be so itchy._

Meg would’ve sounded crazy if nobody else knew what the situation was. She was being loud and expressive with her hands. She even picked up a human heart off the table and crushed it into the dish.  Afterwards, she starting saying an incantation in some crazy language that Emily didn’t know. All over the walls was the sign of the Daeva. She lifted the dish.

            “I don’t think you should come.” A pause. “The brothers are here, they’re in town.” Another pause. “Fine, I’ll be here waiting for you.” There was scorn in her voice as she set the dish.

            She blew any candle out and stomped out of the room. Once the room had become dark and still, Sam scooted through an opening under a gate for the elevator. Trying not to look down, Emily was starting to lose patience while her brother looked around to see if the coast was clear. He re-lit some candles. Afterward, he finally stuck his hand through the bar.

            “Give me your hand.” He said.

            She gripped his hand while his monsters for hands took hold of her wrist along with her hand. She was lifted through the bar and set on the floor. She let out a huge exhale and refused to look back to the elevator shaft.

            “We came all the way up that damn thing for one monologue, now we’re in a room of Satanic purposes.” She complained while brushing her jeans off.

            Sam wasn’t paying any attention to her, he was paying more attention to the altar. It was marked with blood in grotesque images of the symbol, which also was marked on the bowl.

            “What the hell…”

            Emily tried the door…and of course it was locked. “SAAAAAAM…” she whined.

            “What?” he turned around to see her pouting.

            “How are we gonna get down?”

 

**Motel, 12:30 A.M.**

        Dean was lightly sleeping in a chair when Sam and Emily bust through the door. He jumped and hit his knee on the table.

            “HUH WHAT” she snorted.

            “Dude, we gotta talk to you.” Sam closed the door and pulled up a chair.

            Emily was tired, she really was. It’s been a few days without sleep or a decent enough meal, but she was okay with not eating. She was beginning to form bags under her eyes that could no longer be disguised with the thrill of a case. She was also losing color in her cheeks, as if she was getting sick. This has happened once before.

            “Lemme guess, Meg’s controlling these Daevas.” Dean crossed his arms.

            “There’s a big bloody altar and everything, dude. This is pretty intense.” Sam leaned front.

            “All right, what do we do?” Dean rubbed his eyes.

            “I dunno, but Dean, there’s something else.” Sam leaned really front now. “Someone was giving her orders.”

            Emily sat on the couch and closed her eyes, trying to get rid of the headache that had now formed from thinking too hard. She continued to listen to their conversation, trying to connect the dots as if she was in an episode of _Sherlock_. The scent was still in her nose as she tried to trace back to where she first smelled it. Ten years old. She remembered the woods very vividly. Marcus was there but then he was gone. Fast-forward to two years later and Marcus was in pain, the smell was really strong then. That was probably the first she smelled it on her own, even after the demon-man had left. The smell lingered in the colony house, but she grew used to it. She forgot about it. But after being away for so long, she had smelled it again at the colony house. It was so strong on him…it was so strong…

            “This is the same thing that got mom. They’re connected.” She heard one of them say.

            She peeled her eyes open and looked over at them. _Mom._

            “How are these Daeva things connected?” Sam asked.

            Her voice was cracked a little. “I say we do a stakeout. See who’s coming to see our little buddy.”

            The boys nodded at each other.

            “Sam, I don’t think we should do this alone.” He reached for his cell phone.

            Emily’s eyes opened a little more as she sat forward. “Who’re you calling?”

            Dean put the phone up to his ear. “I’m calling him, Sam.”

            Sam nodded and didn’t really look at him.

            There was a little twinge in her heart that reminded her that she had a dad, a blood dad, waiting for her somewhere in the country. With that twinge came the regret of the twinge, so she forgot the twinge completely. She couldn’t just forget the man that had been her father for years. She wasn’t about to replace him with a man she’d never met. A part of her was still, however, waiting in anticipation to see what her real dad looked like. Sam got up and started gathering supplies. Emily did the same with a blank expression on her face. She grabbed her duffel that she used from Grant’s room and began filling it with what she believed was necessary. She packed Scarecrow, the cherished hunting rifle with its name etched in its wood, also now along with its previous owner. She also would carry two pistols that had been named ‘Black Ant’ and ‘Scorpion’. She was a fan of two gunned or two sword battling. She also packed holy water and flash bombs, designed to go off with an incredible flash of light. She zipped up the bag, but not before removing a crucial piece of wardrobe from it. The same jacket she wore for taking out Sydney’s dad, she wore Grant’s old jacket. In this situation, she felt like a badass, carrying a duffel and wearing this beautiful old coat. When she was ready, she smiled with all the intent of satisfaction. She looked at Sam, who was carrying a duffel for two. Dean had just hung up from his call.

            “Dean, what if we bag this thing tonight?” Sam asked, hopefully.

            “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves now.” Dean put his jacket on. “You ready, Junior Mint?”

            She nodded and put her hair up with Marcus’s bandana. “I’m ready.”

            Whatever Sam’s beef was with their dad, Emily could tell it was stirring up inside him like a strong hurricane. The hurricane inside of her was much stronger.

Warehouse

        Sam and Emily directed Dean to the building and entered just like they did before. This time, Sam scouted ahead and checked the door back into the altar room. Seeing it was unlocked, he scurried back down the steps to his siblings. He gave Dean a nod.

            “Guys, what if she’s expecting us?” Emily whispered.

            “We’ll get her before she gets us.” Dean said, heading upstairs.

            Emily let out a sigh as she was the last one in the line going up the stairs. Sam, with the ginger touch, opened the door slowly and quietly. Meg was already there, in the middle of the room, looking into the altar.

            _Shit._

“Hey guys…such a shame, I thought you were coming up through the elevator like last time. Didn’t Emily feel like climbing again?” she turned her head with a smirk.

            There was the smell again. Meg turned completely and smiled at Dean.

            “Don’t smile at me. Where’s your little Daeva?”

            “Around…it’ll come, because it knows that shotgun won’t do anything to it.”

            “Shotgun ain’t for the Daeva, toots.” Dean said.

            Sam stepped forward. “Who are you waiting for, Meg?”

            Meg laughed. “You.”

            Emily should have known it was coming, but she only realized a Daeva’s form too late, when she saw it creeping on the wall as a shadow. She swore as she saw Dean get thrown into a pile of crates. Shadows could pop up anywhere, so Emily didn’t actually know where to run, if she could run. Sam was shoved down to the ground where a claw mark was making its way down his cheek. He let out a scream and that’s when Emily made her move. She pulled a move on Meg, she ran right towards her. If the Daevas were being controlled by her, then they wouldn’t attack her, right? The plan could have worked if a Daeva hadn’t grabbed her by the ankles and yanked her down to the floor. She landed with a thud, chin slamming down and biting her tongue. She grunted and tried to grab Meg’s leg, which was kind of pitiful. At this point, Sam and Dean were being dragged to two poles. She wasn’t experiencing any pain, yet, which was good. On the other hand, she could be getting sniffed out by these shadows. She kicked, which she figured would have no effect on a shadow. Her duffel bag was still right beneath her; one of the pleasures of it going over the shoulder and across the chest. If she could reach her water bottle, she could spritz some holy kick-ass onto this bitch and her bitches. However, the Daevas expected that coming too. They pinned all four limbs to the ground, piercing the skin to give clear sign not to try anything hasty. Meg smirked and tied up Sam and Dean, who were at this point as pissed off as their sister was for once. Meg stood in front of them, completely ignoring Emily. Honestly, she felt kind of stupid being pinned down by some shadows. There isn’t much one can do except to wait.

            “Sam, no offense, but your girlfriend is a bitch.” Dean struggled with the rope around his hands.

            “I knew it. This was all a trap; meeting me at the bar, leading me here…” Sam struggled as well.

            “It would be the perfect conclusion for perfect Sam if this trap was for you. It wasn’t for _you_.” Meg placed her hands on her hips.

            The boys looked at each other, puzzled.

            Emily rolled her eyes. “It’s for John!” she yelled from across the room.

            “It’s for dad.” Sam repeated, looking at Dean.

            “Well, too bad toots, cause if dad were in town, he’d be too good for this.” Dean smiled cockily.

            “Oh, if only you were right…but he is here.”

            “What?” Dean lost his cockiness in an instant.

            While they were talking, Emily squirmed a little, only to be threatened again from the Daevas.

            “His only weakness is his sons. He’s going to come and save his boys, and then the Daevas are going to slaughter everybody. Happy mess.” Meg straddled Dean.

            “Tch.” Scoffed Emily. “The only bitch slaughtering anybody is me.” She had this smile on her face that meant it.

            Meg frowned. “And then there’s _you_. THAT Winchester…” she stood up.

            Emily looked Meg in the eyes the whole time she walked over.

            “You’re a talk of the town. Some real important people I know talk about the third Winchester a lot. Too much. I don’t like it. There aren’t meant to be three kids, only two.”

            “Go to hell!” Sam shouted from across the room.

            “Baby, I’ve already been there.” She smiled again.

            Meg put her foot on Emily’s head, messing up her ponytail. “How are you even alive? I know. A lot of people I know, they know too. It’s really ironic, actually. Like it was all fabricated in a story. Fuck you.”

            “I have no fucking clue what you’re talking about.” Emily growled.

            Meg lifted her foot to look at the bandana keeping her hair up. “What’s this?” she smirked.

            Emily scraped her arms against the Daeva’s claws, but then they threatened to rip the coat. She didn’t want that. She heard footsteps, but so did Meg. Using his monstrous hands, Sam grabbed Meg by the shoulders and threw her to the ground, only after headbutting her. He then flipped the altar table over, messing up everything that was keeping the controlling spell over the Daevas. Emily felt all pressure come off her limbs. Suddenly, Meg was being dragged violently out the warehouse window. She screamed as the glass broke, throwing her down six stories, only to hit the cold hard ground. Emily hopped up and collected herself while Sam cut Dean free.

            “I had my own knife.” Sam said.

            “I guess Daevas don’t like being bossed around.” Dean said.

            “Especially by a bitch.” Emily acknowledged, fixing her hair again.

 

              
**Motel**

        “Guys, I seriously have no idea what she was talking about!”

            They were walking down the hallway back to their room while they questioned Emily about what Meg had said about her back at the warehouse. Honestly, Emily was just tired. Meg had gone on about people talking about how important she was and shit, Emily just wanted to go home and honestly take a nap. Grant’s coat was just so comfortable, she could fall asleep while standing up.

            “I don’t trust you. Once we have a rest, we’re having a serious talk.” Dean said, laying his hand on the doorknob.

            “Who are you, my mother?” Emily snapped back.

            The door opened as Dean and Sam, as a duo, walked inside first. Then they suddenly stopped and turned rigid. There was the outline of a man at the window.

            “Hey!” Dean shouted, pulling a pistol out.

            Sam flicked the light switch on. Dean immediately lowered his gun and actually almost dropped it.

            “Dad?” The boys said at the same time.

            The man turned around and had a bittersweet smile on his face. He had scruff on his face, he looked a lot like Dean. This was him. Dad.

            “Hey, boys.”

            Dean and John walked towards each other and had a very emotional hug. Sam looked uncomfortable, but then he was invited to join the hug, too. Then there was Emily, left all alone. Sam had been hiding her with his height, so there was a possibility John didn’t even see her come in. Her duffel bag was set on the floor very softly, very gingerly. There she stood, at the open door, eyes sullen and mouth partially open. She had a sudden flashback of hugging Marcus and felt the need to burst into tears.

            “Hey dad…” she heard Sam say.

            She didn’t know whether to speak or just stand there. She closed the door, hoping to attract attention, but nobody batted an eye in her direction. It was all about them right now.

            “It was a trap, dad.” She heard Dean say.

            John said he knew. Every word anybody said right now went through her ears and didn’t register into emotions. She just lowered her head and looked at her feet. The three of them were still hugging. Memories went past her eyes it seemed like. Hugging the ones she loved and celebrating the smallest things, being carried on a dad’s shoulders, sparring matches, celebrating his birthday, cooking for him. Her tears hit the floor and she saw them splatter. Nobody batted an eye.

            “The demon knows I’m close. I’m not just going to exorcise it, I’m going to kill it.” John said. They broke their hug.

            “How?” Dean asked.

            “I’m working on it.”

            Emily wiped her eyes and looked up again. Finally, all attention focused on her. And just as she expected, it was negative attention. She made eye contact with John and replaced any feelings of sadness with feelings of challenge.

            “Who are you?” John asked.

            The brothers looked at each other. This was the hard part.

            “My name is Emily.” She had no hard time speaking for herself.

            “I saw you with the boys in the warehouse. What are you to them?” he was starting to get more hostile.

            “I’m their sister.” She crossed her arms.

            “Excuse me?” he looked offended. “Figuratively?”

            “No, literally, you ass hat. I’m your daughter. Emily Winchester. Print me, scan me, check me. Tell ‘im, guys.”

            The boys just looked awkwardly at each other.

            “Well?” John asked Dean.

            “Everything checks out. She’s the real deal, dad.” He confirmed.

            “Bullshit she is. Mary’s dead. You’re impossible.” Again, he looked offended.

            “Seventeen years old and still kicking fast and hard. I’m your daughter, just look at my face. Look at my jawline, my hair, my eyes, my fuckin’ mouth. I’m filled with DNA from you.” She stepped forward.

            “I have no daughter. I have two proud sons!” John challenged back.

            “JUST LOOK AT ME, DAD.” Emily’s tone sank an octave and raised in volume.

            John said nothing back and looked at Sam. “Are you serious?”

            Sam nodded. “Dad, she’s a Winchester.”

            Emily stood her ground. “Look at me closely. Dean did.”

            Using Dean as an example made John buckle in confidence. Meg was right, his weakness was his family.

            “Well.” John looked at her. “If you are my daughter, you must be a mistake.”

            An ironic “shot to the heart” reference could be placed here, but that’s how it felt. Emily just stood there, clawing at her coat.

            “I have no daughter.” He repeated.

            “Now hold on!” Sam shouted, going over to her and resting his hand on her shoulder. “This girl is a proud Winchester, dad. The hell she’s been through the past few weeks, getting through it all, she’s conquered it like any of us! She’s been looking forward to meeting you for weeks, and this is how you welcome her?”

            Dean was silent. John pushed Sam aside and looked her in the eyes.

            “I won’t accept it until I see it. I have a hard time believing it, but my sons do. Check the glove compartment while you’re at it.” He walked back to Dean.

            _Glove compartment…?_ “Dad…” she murmured. “Dad.” He ignored her. Her eyes widened. “DAD!”

            A shadow lurked out of the window, being followed by many others. John was thrown into their cabinets, blood spraying off of him. Dean was collapsed to the floor and Sam went flying into the wall. The Daevas were after John. As she ran towards him, she was slammed into a bookshelf.

            _Are they…after me too…?!_ She struggled to escape their grip. How were they going to get out of this? Everybody was shouting in pain, mostly Dean. He was watching his dad get cut up before his eyes. The button of her pocket popped off as she threw herself onto the floor, towards her duffel bag. She pulled out a flash bomb.

            “BLINK!” she screamed.

            They all looked her direction as she threw a flash bomb onto the floor. They Daevas screamed in agony and retreated out the window.

            She got to her feet. “EVERYBODY OUT! NOW!”

            John grabbed a hold of Dean and ran out, Sam made sure Emily was in his grip with her duffel bag as they barreled through the hallways and down the stairs. She threw another flash bomb when she saw one Daeva following them. When they finally reached the parking lot they knew they were safe.

            Dean grabbed her and brought her in for a hug. “Quick thinking, Junior Mint.”

            She was panting, everybody was. “They’ll be back.”

            He nodded and let her go, now approaching Dad. “You can’t come with us.”

            Sam looked around, scared. “What? Dean, we have to stick together!”

            “Sam, we almost got Dad killed in there! We have to go our separate ways.”

            John nodded and prepared to get into his black truck. Emily stepped forward.

            “Hold on there, John Winchester.” She demanded.

            He stopped.

            “I don’t give a rat’s ass what you think of me. I don’t care if you accept me as your child or not. All that matters is that I saved your ass so you can avenge Mary, right? Go ahead and think what you want. Just know that your daughter saved you tonight, and when you come back, I’ll still be around. When this demon is dead, I’ll be the one to challenge you for your head on a stick, do you understand me?”

            He blurted out one laugh. Nothing else. He just started his truck and left the lot, diesel drinker speeding down the road and all.

 

**Impala, 2:00 A.M.**

        “We’re going west, guys. There’s some good pie out there.” Dean announced behind the wheel.

            It was raining as they drove. It hasn’t been the best hunt, they didn’t kill anything. They just managed to have a bad episode of _Full House_ that ended in a lot of swearing. Emily’s stomach rumbled, quite loud to be exact. Dean smiled and pulled into a restaurant.

            “I’m going to get some grub. Especially for you, you saved our asses back there.” He pointed to Emily. “Come on Sam.”

            He groaned sadly. “Yea, all right…”

            They left the Impala and closed the doors in unison. She saw them run through the rain like little girls and take salvation indoors. Emily was alone to listen to the droplets hit the exterior of the car. John’s words echoed in her head.

            _Check the glove compartment…_

            She crawled up into the middle console and sat in Sam’s seat. She opened the glove compartment, revealing a manila folder surrounded by dozens of fake IDs and credit cards and cell phones. She grabbed the manila folder and looked at it. It was her medical file. She looked up, they weren’t coming back yet. She opened it and her eyes widened. Her asylum records. Where the fuck did they get these?

            “Ringo…” she whispered.

            She looked up and saw them waving from the glass doors. She waved back, expression holding fake happiness. When they looked away, she shifted from paper to paper. This also held her medication files, diagnoses, and even juicier, her breakout. She smiled at that, she was able to break out of a mental institution. To clear the air, she was definitely not crazy. She was admitted for depression after Grant had been killed. She began seeing all the doctors’ faces in her mind again, recapping the event over and over again. Only instead of a Wendigo, Grant was killed by a bear to them. She yelled at them sometimes. They weren’t helping her, they were killing her. So she broke out in the middle of the night. When she got home, she saw Ringo and only Ringo.

            _“I’ll keep my mouth shut.”_ She had said.

            A few weeks later, or perhaps a month, she met Sam and Dean. Now everything was collapsing on top of her again. She tucked the folder into the inside of her shirt and closed the glove compartment. She crawled back into her seat and waited for her brothers to return. When they did, they presented her with a full rack of ribs, French fries, and a lemonade. She thanked them. The Impala was on its way west, home of wildlife and dryness, and of course, tornados. They were probably going to avoid tornado alley, though. It was only thirty more minutes into their car ride when they stopped again at a motel.

 

**Motel Room, 3:00 A.M.**

        Sam and Dean fell right to sleep. Emily however, did not. She read the manila folder over and over again, disappointed in herself. She rested on the couch, head against the back pillows. Her one hand went into her pocket, the coat pocket who’s button had popped up. Her fingers brushed a piece of paper in the process. What was that paper? She pulled it out; it was a brown envelope that had a lot of references on them. They were references from Grant. She flipped it over and found that the envelope had been addressed to her. Hands shaking, she carefully opened the envelope, careful not to damage it too badly. She pulled out a piece of notebook paper that was neatly folded into thirds. Unfolding it, she immediately recognized Grant’s handwriting. She was scared to read it. Her eyes began scanning the sentences. As she read, she backed into the table and fell over. She clutched the note close to her and she began to cry on the floor. A newspaper fell down next to her, headline facing up. While crying, she read it. The tears slowed down when she realized what she had to do. She stood up with the newspaper and letter in her hands. The tears flowed again, only now her face was numb. She slammed the newspaper onto the table.

            _“Grizzly Bear Takes Six in Western Michigan”_


	6. Pulse of Anger, Sound of Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She had looked in the Glove Compartment, and that had only made things worse when she found the letter. Ridden with guilt and revenge, Emily takes off, claiming that she has some 'unfinished business' to take care of. Sam and Dean are left to chase after her, hoping that their sister isn't aiming at killing herself over her personal demons. Emily faces off with her most gruesome of memories, the Wendigo. However, when the battle is over, were the brothers too late to save her from herself?

**Motel Room, 7:30 A.M.**

        Dean was, for once, up late and was comfortable doing it. He stretched and let out an unnecessary grunting noise. He slid a pair of jeans on and looked over at Sam’s bed, he was still sleeping. He strolled out to the main room and went for the car keys that should be on the table. Before he could reach for the keys though, he needed to at least wake himself up with some coffee. Dean didn’t usually like coffee in the mornings, but he was feeling extra good today. While he brewed the caffeinated beverage, he noticed that something was off. There wasn’t a teenager bouncing off the walls asking for breakfast or hot chocolate.

            “Emily?” Dean looked around.

            She wasn’t there. Her shoes were gone from the front door, her jacket wasn’t hanging with theirs on the coat rack, and her bags weren’t around. The feeling was eerie.

            “What the hell…” Dean walked around the room.

            There it was; the manila folder next to a purple envelope with a black ribbon on it. Dean’s heart skipped a beat.

            “Sam!” he called into the bedroom. “Sam, come on, get up.” He walked to his bed.

            “Whuh…what’s up…?” Sam asked groggily.

            “Get up. I have coffee goin’, but we kinda have a problem.” He tugged the blankets off him.

            Sam rubbed his eyes and yawned. “Yea, I’m coming…”

            Dean poured a cup of coffee for each of them and set them on the table. He took a seat in front of the closed envelope and folder. Sam pulled out a chair and took his seat, quickly waking up from the coffee.

            “Where’s Em?” Sam looked around.

            Dean looked him in the eyes. “That’s the problem.”

            “Wait, that’s the folder Ringo gave us. Does this mean…”

            “She saw it in the glove compartment. Dammit.”

            “What’s the letter say?”

            “I guess we’re about to find out.” Dean answered, opening the envelope gingerly.

            The paper was folded into thirds and the words were written in a mixture of print and cursive. It wasn’t atrocious handwriting, but it was…good enough. It wasn’t beautiful. Dean read it, squinting at the words. Sam was standing behind Dean now, reading it over his shoulder. As the two of them read it, their eyes widened more and more until the very end.

            “You’re kidding me.” Dean said.

Four Hours Ago, Motel Room

                    After thinking her plan over several times and again, she decided to enact step one. She set the manila folder on the table and pulled out some notebook paper. She knew this might be the last thing she’d say to them for a while, so she had to get her point across. She pulled out a pen and sat at the table, tears no longer shedding.

            _“Sam and Dean,_

_Well, I guess it’s all in the open now, isn’t it? You saw my medical files. I figured you guys would catch on after a while, especially after talking to the members of my colony. You can think I’m insane if you want, just know that I truly am not. Those doctors were killing me, guys. I had to get out of there, I’m really sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. If you shun me like dad does, then I guess I can accept that._

_But that isn’t the reason why I’m leaving. I’m leaving because of what Grant left for me to do. I found the letter he left for me to read. He had it in his coat the whole time, I honestly never would’ve guessed. He knew ahead of time that the plan wasn’t going to work. He explained to me why he thought that and the reasoning for going after the Wendigo. I still don’t understand it, but this is how things turned out. It was a long shot, and we only failed. I have some personal business that I have to take care of. There’s no point in coming after me, you’ll only interrupt what has to happen. I’m taking Baby for the first part of my trip, don’t worry, she’s safe. If you need to know where to pick her up, I left the address at the bottom of this letter. When you get to the dealership I left her at, just ask “Jared” to assist you because he “owes some favors”. He’ll know I sent you for the Impala. After you get Baby, turn around and go find dad. He’ll be happy I’m not with you guys anymore. Go kill the thing that killed mom. I’m really sorry, guys._

_Emily”_

She pulled out a purple envelope that she took from her room back home with some black ribbon, sealed the envelope, and set it next to the manila folder on the table. She grabbed her bags and swung them over her shoulders, grabbing the keys to the Impala last.

            “Dean’s gonna kill me next time he sees me…” she whispered.

            She left the motel room and closed the door behind her, making her way through the lobby and out into the cold, dark rain. She tossed her bags in the back and scurried up to the driver’s seat. Taking one last look up at the motel, she took a deep sigh, started the car, and pulled out of the parking lot.

 

**Present Time, Impala**

        It had passed sunrise an hour ago, the boys would be up now, or at least soon. She had been driving for a good four hours, she was only a mile away from the car dealership. The dealer, Jared, had owed Grant a favor. She supposed that the favor would still count if his girlfriend were relaying the message. He had the wheels she was looking for, and she wasn’t going to pass up a chance to leave him a classic 1967 Chevy Impala. To babysit. The highway had become sickening to look at, and it gave her great pleasure to be seeing an exit that led to the small town she was looking for. It wasn’t a big town, but it wasn’t a tiny one either. Her destination was a car dealership across from a family diner. She saw the sunuvabitch she was looking for because he was standing outside the building in a neon green shirt with a moose on it. “Moose Lots” the dealership was called. It was pretty lame. She pulled into the lot and drove straight for him.

    “Good god, no…” He whispered.

    She shut the Impala door and twirled the keys on her index finger, leaning against the hood of the car. She had this smug look on her face.

    “Hey, Jared. You miss me?”

    “Tch. Last time you were here, you said I owed you some favors. I’m a little scared to be honest.”

    “Glad you remember, cause this is one of those favors.”

    “I’m not going to help you bury a body, mother of god.”

    “No, no, nothing like that.” she handed him the keys. “I need you to babysit this Impala until my dim-witted brothers get here. One’s tall and looks like a moose, the other one looks like a model. Sam and Dean, they’ll be here later on today.”

    “This is pretty serious; putting off your brothers after you steal their car.” he narrowed his eyes.

    “Yea. It is.”

    “Well, I’ll take good care of it.”

    She eyed a red motorcycle at the other end of the lot. “I have another favor to ask you.”

 

**Stolen Car**

    “I can’t believe she stole the Impala.” Dean said angrily.

    “I can’t believe we stole a car.” Sam replied, bewildered.

    “Well get over it, because we gotta get to that car dealership! I can’t believe she did this, running off like that!” Dean shouted at the windshield.

    Sam looked at his hands bunched up into fists. She had said their dad wasn’t her reason for leaving, but Sam was curious. What had Grant said as his final written words? What made her act so strongly? All Sam knew was that he was about to act strongly if Dean didn’t slow the car down. They were probably going 100 in a 55 zone.

    “I can’t believe it either.” Sam replied.

    “Let’s not forget that you ran off on us a little while ago, too. Kids are impressionable, maybe she got it from you!” Dean was beginning to fly off the handle.

    “This is her we’re talking about. Impressionable?” Sam looked at him with a disapproving look.

    Dean was quiet before answering again. “Yea, you’re right. Sorry, Sam. I’m a little stressed out.”

    The highways were never-ending. Sam was eager to get off the highway as soon as possible. The car they stole was probably on the police radar, and there were cops all over the highway with speed traps. If they were found with a stolen car, it was game over. Dean knew that, too. At the moment, Dean wasn’t just fueled with rage from his car being stolen, he was worried. He had felt this kind of worry before, being the oldest of the siblings, but this was different. Emily was younger than Sam was, they both should have catered to her feelings a little bit more. It’s the brother’s responsibility to take care of their younger sister. All Dean knew was that he had to reach his younger sister before she got herself killed, or worse.

“We’re reaching the exit, Dean. We shaved off an hour by going so fast…” Sam held such sass in his voice.

“Great.”

Dean merged onto the ramp that took them into the small town Emily’s letter had detailed for them. Dean smacked the horn when the merging lane became piled up with slow-moving cars and trucks of all sizes. He made several power moves, actually scratching a mini-cooper with his mirror. Wasn’t his car, he didn’t care. He broke free of the tangled mess and sped down the road; which surprisingly held very few cars.

    “DEANDEANDEAN WAIT, YOU PASSED IT!” Sam shouted, pointing back the way they came.

    “Son of a bitch…” Dean growled while screeching to a halt and turning around.

    With a swift movement of the steering wheel, he was able to run over the divider between the two roads and make their way into the driveway of the car dealership. A very startled young man ran outside with his arms flailing worriedly.

    “What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” the man shouted.

            Dean slammed the car door shut, pulling his gun out and pointing it at the man.

            “Whoa, whoa, what are you doing, man?!” he put his hands up.

            “Where’s the Impala,” he looked at his nametag. “Jared?”

            He took a good look at them both as Sam walked up to join Dean. “Oh, I get it.”

            “What?” Sam asked.

            “You’re her brothers. She told me you were coming.” He lowered his hands, no longer afraid.

            “Oh yea?” Dean didn’t lower the gun.

            “Did she say where she was going?” Sam asked with concern.

            Jared shook his head. He took the Impala keys out of his pocket and jingled them in Dean’s direction. Sam raised his eyebrows as he shared a look with Dean, who now lowered his gun.

            “Kept ‘er nice and safe. She’s in the back of the lot.” Jared explained.

            The newspaper stand caught Sam’s attention. At first thought, he figured he would get a paper for some light reading material during the search for Emily, if Dean decided to keep up the search. As he neared the stand, all noises began to become blocked out as his eyes began making out the words on the front page. Instead of light and satisfied, his eyes showed a puzzle being put together as two and two were being put together. The puzzle didn’t click until he was holding the paper in his hands. He read the headline over and over again.

            “Sammy, let’s go! We got the Impala!” Dean called over to him.

            Sam turned around and followed Dean, who was now making his way to the back of the lot. Jared had not followed them, he probably wet himself after that whole experience.

            “What’s that?” Dean asked before opening the door.

            “The newspaper. I know where she went.”

            Dean lit up. “Really? Where?”

            Sam turned the paper around so the headline was showing. “Western Michigan.”

 

**State Border**

        Helmets were overrated. There she was, on a motorcycle, headed down a one way street to the end of herself. Her bag was clipped to the rear of the motorcycle, her hair was up, only not with the bandana, that was safely away in her pocket. Her ponytail whipped through the air. Did she have a motorcycle license? Not a real one. She just wasn’t worried about getting into any traffic. Her first objective was to find a field station near the woods; they would have a map of the area so she could set up what she needed to. After she had set up the plan, she would retrace her steps as the sun set, or at least a little after, and then make a full throttle dash through Wendigo territory. She would then take it from there with the flare gun. If things went smoothly, she would leave the scene in one piece. It was all up to the execution at this point. That was what went wrong last time; they screwed the execution of the plan. This time was different. She revved the engine and went faster down the stretch of highway, finally seeing the sign to pass into Michigan. She zoomed by, the hot sun sweltering down on her. She assumed it was about three in the afternoon at this point. The boys had to have gotten the Impala by now, but hopefully Jared steered them in the opposite direction. If not, they could show up and spoil the execution of the plan. This plan was risky and required specific timing. She also remembered how fast Dean would drive, he could shave an hour off by going well over 100 miles per hour. The highway signs sped by her, catching a sign that would lead her to her exit ramp. It was getting down to three miles when she saw the field station sign. Three more miles until her exit. Time was ticking, not that it mattered at this point anyway. The reason why being on her own was so bad was because she was able to think about anything and everything. She had the time to reflect on the past few weeks. Two miles until her exit. A flaw trickled into her head as she continued to drive. What if the field officer was the same? This was the same Wendigo, the same place. It’s not like field stations in tiny forests get replaced very often, unless they do. If the man was the same man, she would play it cool. At the one mile mark, she drifted into the other lane to prepare to get off at the exit. She had brought everything with her, the silver axe, the lighter, the gasoline. It would be difficult without backup with her, but she knew this is what she had to do. There was the exit; she pulled off the highway and entered the road to the woods looming in the distance. One wouldn’t expect a large wood to be in Michigan, but there was. And it just happened to hold the deadliest thing she has ever come face to face with.

 

**Field Station**

        She snagged a parking space close to the building, carrying her duffel bag for security measures. There weren’t many people there, so she shouldn’t have too big of an issue with getting inside right away. The forest spanned for quite a long time, it was truly beautiful. The station itself was a log cabin filled with field maps and travel destinations. For caution, she pulled out the badge she used before; a fake college researcher for a biology project. Adults are suckers for anxious students. Walking through the front door of the station, she recognized the field officer. She half-expected it, so she wasn’t completely taken aback. She had to play it cool. He looked up from his newspaper. The man was mid to late fourties, black hair turning a little gray already. He smiled warmly.

            “Well if you ain’t a sight for sore eyes. I remember you.”

            “Yep. We got them hawks migrating again, I feel like I could do some research today, if that’s okay with you of course.” She smiled.

            “Well, I don’t think that’s an option. There’s been too many bear attacks, they just popped up out of nowhere. I don’t want a young girl getting killed on my watch.”

            “I understand.” She started to walk out.

            “Now hold on!”

            She stopped.

            “I could accompany you, if you promise that I can watch you conduct your research. I don’t want any…funny business…” he squinted when looking at her bag.

            He was referring to last time. The field was set on fire.

            “Of course.” She nodded.

            _I need him to guide me up the path while I lay markers down. When we get to the field, I’ll get to work._

“Please lead the way along the nature trail that leads to the field, that’s where the current nest is being occupied.” She lied.

            “Of course, miss.” He came out from behind his counter and led her out the door.

 

**Nature Trail**

        Emily marked her second tree, the second checkpoint. The field officer had not yet asked about this marker system, but Emily was ready to respond if the offer did come up. Emily remembered this trail. Last time, she didn’t have this officer leading her. Last time Grant led the way. It was incredibly risky to wandering about a Wendigo’s territory with little to go off of, but she knew it was out there in the trees. She would only be in danger until she was out of the forest and into the field. Her third marker would be coming up shortly. The officer almost tripped on a boulder that he thought he stepped over, Emily caught his arm so he wouldn’t collide his face with the dirt.

            “Are you okay?” she asked.

            “Yes.” He responded a bit too harshly.

            He stood up straight and continued onward. She followed him with a bead of foreboding sweat precipitating on her forehead. Finally they made it to the opening of trees that led out to a beautiful, green field. There were lilacs in bloom and a cool breeze whipped leaves through the air. On the far side was a dirt road. It was most likely the back way into the field, without going through the forest. Emily was ready to mark the final tree when a sound stopped her. As she pinned a bag to the tree, she saw the officer turn in her peripheral vision. She turned her head to see a gun being pointed at her.

            _Fuck._

            “It’s rather foolish of you to think I _wouldn’t_ remember you.” He said, glaring.

            “Honestly, I wasn’t counting on you being here. I just wanted to get back up to that field.”

            “Why?”

            She made something up. “To pay tribute to my friend.”

            “Right. The last time you were here, you set my field on fire while trying to kill a bear that decapitated your friend. Then a bunch of whackjobs rushed in and had guns blazing. According to the FBI, you’re supposed to be in a mental institution.”

            He was talking about Marcus in an FBI suit.

            “I know you miss your friend, but there’s no reason to go killing yourself where he died. That isn’t the right way out.” He started lowering his gun.

            That last statement hit her hard. “You don’t know anything.” She inched her hand to her bag.

            “Don’t do it, girlie. I know it hurts, but he’s gone.”

            She grinded her teeth and screamed as she whipped the pistol out and shot him. She missed his head and it hit his shoulder instead. He dropped his gun and stumbled backward. She tackled him to the ground and kneed him in the chest on the way down. While he shouted in pain, she grabbed a heavy rock and threw it on him. It only took one hit to finish the job. When she realized what she did, she stepped back and looked at her hands. Gulping, she just turned and ran into the field. Nobody was around to hear it, but she just killed a man. Then again, he might have killed her. If not, he would arrest her. The more frightening of the bunch is that the Wendigo heard it. If it didn’t know she was here already, it knew now. She pulled out a can of red spray paint and began the process of writing Anasazi symbols in the grass. She was planning on trapping it in the circle when it chased her here, then setting it on fire to finally kill it. If that didn’t work, then she would have to come up with a plan B. 

            “The gasoline.” She muttered as her eyes lit up with an idea.

Plan B was going to be gasoline. On top of the red spray paint would be a layer of lighter fluid. Both would remain unfinished until the Wendigo was inside. The immeasurable pain might be enough to kill it. But she also could be wrong. It was getting late now, and she still had blood on her hands; figuratively and literally. With the leftover gasoline in hand, she made her trek back through the woods and back to the station as fast as she could.

            “At least you got dinner, buddy. Bon appetit, fucker.” She mumbled at the forest.

 

**Midnight**

        “God damn, I hate coffee…” Emily whispered to herself.

Coffee was the only thing the field station had to offer, besides some bogus and old tea and year old hot chocolate. She took her chances with the coffee. She stood up from the officer’s office chair and cracked her knuckles. She was as ready as she would ever get. She sniffed through her nose and threw on Grant’s old jacket, packing it full of the guns, the silver axe and, of course, her lighter. Her gas tank was filled over half, her tires were full of air, and her brain was filled with revenge. Slamming the door open, she tried to make noise to wake the beast up. Thankfully, all campsites were closed due to the ‘bear’ attacks. She saddled herself onto her red beast on wheels and didn’t bother to don a helmet. She kicked the kickstand up and started it up. Revving the engine, she made her way up the dirt path at about twenty miles per hour. If she noticed activity before she reached the first marker, she’d immediately step on it. In all honesty, everything was riding on that ability to maneuver a seventy pound motorcycle. If she failed, it’d all be for naught. As she almost got lost in thought, there were birds fleeing through the sky to the left, about five-hundred yards away. She cranked up her speed to forty. Wendigos were fast. But this one, oh-ho, this one loved to play. It couldn’t bear the idea of not tormenting its food. The first marker was passed when she began to feel a separate rumbling from under the wheels. She cranked her speed up to fifty-five. On an end note, there was a somewhat drizzle beginning to take effect. Emily wasn’t worried. The second bag would be approaching soon, she thought. Suddenly a tree was knocked down and snapped behind her. She yelped and almost lost her bearings on the dirt. A sort of howling rang right behind her ears as she whirred her wheels up to a solid ninety miles per hour. She zipped past the second bag when she remembered the officer and his little fall earlier. There were roots and rocks all over the place, so this is where the maneuvering would, hopefully should, take effect. She took a steep turn around a tree root and felt her rear tire get pushed by a gust of air, probably the Wendigo’s claws. That sure did it. Her vehicle studdered left and right as she tried to hopelessly dodge the boulder at the end of the route. That one damn boulder. With an odd THUNK, the front wheel collided with the boulder at that astonishing speed. This sent Emily flying off the seat and into the air. In this moment, everything was going in slow motion. She saw the bike twisting and turning in mid-air as she was twirling like a helpless rag doll, mercy to the weight of the wind and the gravity that was pulling her forward. In her airborne dive, she caught a glimpse of its face. It was horrid, absolutely terrifying. It looked like a chocolate bunny’s face being melted off with a hair-dryer. It was headed right for her. The ground met her right shoulder with a welcoming crack, and the motorcycle not finished with its goodbyes by landing next to her. She screamed in pain, she definitely dislocated something, but she didn’t have time to resurface anything from her anatomy class to remember because there was a scary formation of flesh and claw storming her direction. She stood up and ran as fast as her wobbling legs would carry her. The impact from the crash had landed her at the bottom of the clearing, plenty a distance away from the circle. Before she could have time to have a moment of clarity, there was that screeching howl. She kept running and running, but suddenly she was flying towards the circle. There was a searing pain in her back as she came to the conclusion that the beast had sent her flying with the bulk of its claws. She landed with a thud again, at the brink of the circle. Her bleeding hands struggled to locate the lighter in time. The next milestone was to actually flick the lighter ON and throw it down in a badass-like fashion. She hurried to the unfinished side of the circle and connected the two lines with a puddle of gas. A spot of drool hit her hair as she looked up, flicking the lighter on.

            “Burn in hell, shit-face.” She hissed as she dropped the lighter.

            The beast seemed to scream as the flames encircled them both and shot into the night sky. The circle had some sort of effect on it, obviously, but the burning flames were doing a number on it. Coughing and wheezing, Emily stumbled out of the fire and reached for the axe at her belt, but it wasn’t there. Frantically, she patted herself down, but it was not there.

            “The crash…” she whispered.

            The axe was at the site where she landed. Turning around, she saw the cycle across the field. She made a break for it. Her bad arm swung around helplessly as she gathered as much speed as she could.  The howl of the Wendigo was enough to make her turn around in horror. Heart skipping tens of dozens of beats, she stormed to that motorbike with every ounce of energy she could. She saw it and snatched it from under the wreckage. There was some gasoline spilled on it, maybe a little of blood, but that was okay right now. She had to make her way back to the circle. It was better than being closer to the woods. The beast was moving slower, both unfamiliar with its surroundings and hurting from the fire. She ran TOWARDS the Wendigo. She hatched up a plan as she also pulled out that lucky hunting rifle. The axe was pinned back onto her belt loop as she readied the gun in motion. It had been previously loaded, she just had to get the aim right. The Wendigo was gasping, it seemed. It screamed in her direction as she stopped running and aimed.

            “EAT SILVER BULLETS, FUCKER!” She shouted as she fired at the scar in its chest. The scar was bullet sized.

            The bullet was enough to shock it. She had to strafe to make her way behind it. She needed that lighter back, and she had to get back inside the circle in the safest and non-burningest way possible. The circle was right there. She could feel its holy barrier against her fingertips as she reached for it. She was home free. But as she understood that, she felt her lower intestine sever from the upper one and hit the jacket. She was thrown away from the barrier with a force that was heavily unkind. She saw the circle get farther and farther away, she saw her own hand reach out towards it. She landed with a numb feeling, but it was mixed with pain at the same time. She landed on the flat side of the axe, which now felt hot. Then her leg felt hot. Then her leg was on fire. The axe was on fire. _The silver axe was on fire._ She smiled as she saw that ugly beast reach down and pick her up from the back of the neck. She was face-to-face with that melted chocolate face. The image of Grant flashed by as she jammed the flaming axe into the heart of the Wendigo. She was dropped, she landed hard. The wind was blown out of her. The Wendigo screamed and screamed, falling backward, slowly.

            “For a fast beast…you’re slow…when you fall…” she stammered out.

            She fell when it fell. The numb feeling spread over her body. The adrenaline fled her bloodstream and she felt heavy.

            “It’s raining… Grant…do you feel it…the rain…?” she whispered to the black sky, burning with the glint of fire. “I did it…and I think I fucked up…” she smiled. “But…it’s okay…Scarecrow did good… I’ll be there soon…so we can play Tetris…all over again…”

            Rain came down in that short burst, enough to put out most of the horrible blaze. As quickly as it came, it departed. Her hand fled to her pocket. There was her bandana. Tears streamed down the sides of her face as she cried and cried.

 

**Impala, One Mile From the Station**

        “It makes so much sense, dammit, it makes too much sense!” Dean shouted from behind the wheel.

            “I knew she was acting funny but Dean, this is suicide. She could kill herself!” Sam shouted, holding his cellphone.

            “You’ve been cradling that thing for hours, who’re you gonna call for a Wendigo problem?! For a crazy girl seeking revenge on a hell-spawn that she thinks she can kill alone?!”

            Sam’s eyes lit up. “Steven.”

            “What?” Dean asked, dangerously passing a slow driver.

            “Steven said if she needed talking out of something…sense being talked into her…I should call him.” He looked at his phone with uneasiness.

            “Well, what’re you waiting for? Call him then!” Dean honked and zoomed past a tractor trailer.

            Sam dialed the number and waited for him to pick up. It was 12:18 at night, so he would be amazed if Steven picked up. Of course, there was none, just the voicemail.

_“Hey, it’s Steven, sorry I can’t answer your call. Catch me later. B E E P”_

“Hey, Steven, it’s—’’

“Sam. SAM, LOOK UP THERE.” Dean gestured to the northeast.

There was a column of smoke and the radiant glow of orange. Clear signs of a fire.

            “How do we get back there?!” Dean shouted.

            “…call me back. It’s about Emily.” He hung up and pulled a map out.

            Dean went off the exit and took a back road in order to make their way around the dense woods. 

            “Turn onto this dirt road here!” Sam pointed at the windshield to direct Dean.

            The glow and smoke was getting closer and closer as Dean pressed the gas pedal. Suddenly there was a clearing, a field lit with fire. A fence prevented them from zipping across the grass, so they went around and waited until there was an opening. Sam looked out the windshield in horror.

            “Dean… DEAN!” he shouted and pointed to a figure being dropped to the ground.

            “God DAMMIT.” Dean stepped on it, there was dirt sliding under the tires.

            “She fell. Dean, she’s not moving. DEAN, GO FASTER.” Sam was shaking his brother’s arm.

            As soon as there was a break in fence, the boys stopped the car and leapt out. Dean slammed the door, so did Sam, but they paused to relish in the disaster that Emily created. Fire was everywhere. Wind was blowing, so the fire was growing even faster than it should have been. Sam dashed forward as the rain began to fall. Dean was right behind him. They saw the motorcycle yards away, ashes with an axe laying in them, and a crumpled, bleeding body.

            “Her eyes are open!” Dean shouted as he grew closer.

            A pungent smell made them buckle over. It was organ smell. Dean grunted and felt the heat of the fire as he grew even closer.

            Sam stopped with Dean on both sides of her. Her lips were moving, she was blinking. Then they stopped. The rain was coming down hard now, making the grass slick and muddy. Sam leaned down to listen closely. She was singing something, but he didn’t recognize it.

            “Don’t touch her, she’s opened up on the right side. We gotta close that before doing anything.” Dean said, clogging the wound with parts of her jacket.

            “I’m lifting her feet.” Sam decided, grabbing her legs.

            “I got upper.” Dean picked her up slowly. “Okay, now high-tail it!” Dean screamed above the rain.

            To Emily, everything was in slow motion again. The images were slow, but not really fuzzy. Reality was negated with the feeling of pain in her abdomen.

            _Dean, when did you get here? What’s wrong?_

Sam took over for Dean and tried to carry her himself as Dean opened the back doors for her to be rested in. Sam carefully set her on the seats and slammed the car doors.

            “There’s a hospital close by, just five miles. Step on it.” Sam said. He then turned around and continuously snapped his fingers to keep her eyes moving. “Hey. Hey! Can you see? Can you hear me okay?!”

            _I’d love to talk, Sam, but I’m so tired…_

“Don’t let her sleep, Sam!” Dean shouted. “You keep her awake!”

            She wanted to yawn. _I’ll see you later…I’m going to sleep…_

She closed her eyes, which to her, meant naptime.

 

**??????**

        Wind? No, that wasn’t it. It was pressure? No, that wasn’t it either. Something was cold, something was moving her hair. She opened her eyes to pure white. Kind of like the train station from Harry Potter where everyone wore white, and there was that Voldemort fetus thing under a bench, that kind of white. A room, an endless room. She was lying on her back. She had a white shirt on with white jeans and white converse. She was in a puddle of red. The red was flowing from her side, but when she stood up, there was no red on her person. Just on the floor. Walking around, she just tried to grasp where she was and what just happened. She looked up, down, all around. Then she heard someone clear their throat behind her.

            “Just like the crow chasing the butterfly.” It was a boy’s voice.

            Emily whipped around and saw that familiar black hair and cocky smile. She couldn’t find words, only the urge to hug him.

            “I never thought you’d end up here with me.” He admitted.

            She ran up to him and hugged him tightly, tears streaming down her face.

            “Em, you’re so stupid…” he talked into her hair as he returned the embrace warmly.

            “I did it, though…” she said.

            “Yea, you did.” He nodded. “But you hurt yourself pretty bad.”

            “How bad?” she stepped back from him half of a step.

            “Pretty badly.” Another voice told her.

            She turned again to see Marcus. He matched his son by wearing all white. She cried more, embracing her guardian as Grant joined in again.

            “Please, don’t cry, my dear. It’s okay.” Marcus whispered, rubbing her back.

            “I thought I’d never see you again…” she spoke into Marcus’s shirt.

            “You’re lucky, have you seen my face? No bandana. You have it.”

            That’s true. Marcus was still with her in cloth form. He may have lost his bandana, but he still wore his eye patch.

            “I hope you understood that what you did was foolish. I raised you both better than that.” Marcus explained.

            She nodded solemnly. “I know…”

            “But you can see us for a little while.” Grant lightened.

            She smiled, wiping her face. “Where am I?”

            “Eh…somewhere.” Grant dodged the question in a way.

            She hugged them both again. “I missed you both so much…”

            Marcus broke the enlightening moment by breaking the hug. He looked at Grant, nodded, and cleared his throat.

            “It isn’t your time to die yet.” He put his arms behind his back.

            “What?” she blinked. “I’m not dead?”

            “Yikes, don’t sound so disappointed.” Grant narrowed his eyes.

            “Then where am I?!”

            “Sleeping, dear.” Marcus replied.

            “So, you aren’t real…?” she wanted to sob.

            “No, we are. We’re very real.” Grant answered.

            The ground began to rumble, a crevice opening in the ground in front of them. Emily tried to back away.

            “It’s time for you to go back, Emily.” Marcus told her, grabbing her one arm.

            Grant grabbed the other, sadness in his eyes. She felt it in his grip and saw sorrow in his eyes.

            “Live, Em. Don’t go killing yourself for our sake.” Grant said, kissing her cheek.

            They were pulling her closer and closer to the edge of the crevice, she continued to struggle and pull away.

            “It’s time for you to go back…” Marcus’s voice cracked. “We love you.”

            They let go of her arms and pushed her. As she fell front, she turned and saw their faces.

            “No…” she said, seeing the guilt embedded in their faces. Grant shed tears.

            As she fell, she screamed and screamed.

            “NO! DON’T SEND ME BACK! NO!!!!!!!!”

            The floor of the abyss smacked her in the face, back to reality.

 

**Hospital Room**

        She sat upright so quickly, she might have popped her stitches open. Tears poured down her face as she shouted into a person’s clothing.

            “NO! SEND ME BACK! SEND ME BACK! I WANNA DIE, I WANNA DIE! LET ME BE WITH THEM!!” she sobbed, trying to force herself out of the bed and out of the room.

            The force of her sitting up was equivalent to waking up suddenly from a dream, you snap awake and fly up and forward. Sam was holding her close, letting her cry and sob herself into oblivion. A nurse rushed in, but Sam shook his head. He didn’t know what she saw, but he had a grim feeling. Dean wasn’t in the room, it was only her and Sam. He rubbed her back and told her where they were, that the brothers were fine, and that she was going to be okay. It turns out that the Wendigo had ripped out her lower intestine and she had to go through surgery through most of the night. She had slept until just now. Her crying didn’t stop for a little while, she needed to understand that she was back with her brothers.

            “Where’s Dean…?” she croaked out.

 

            Dean was standing out by the receptionist’s desk.

            “Sir, because of this patient’s record, we had to notify the FBI that she was here. I’m sorry, but that’s how it works.”

            “Listen. That girl in there is my sister. It does not matter who she is or what she’s done. She’s my blood. Therefore, she is not leaving my side. She stays.” He slammed his fist on the table.

            “Sir, please don’t make this hard on everybody.” She pleaded.

            “You made it hard when you called the damn FBI!” he shouted.

            “Dean, please. Step back.” A familiar voice ordered.

            Dean turned to see that ginger hair with the orange gleam to it. It was their knight in FBI uniform, Steven. He flashed his badge and put it back in his jacket.

            “The mistress in your possession is indeed supposed to be under my surveillance, but she is not wanted. Therefore, adhering your argument, she is allowed to remain with family. I only ask that she gets through me before being released.” He sounded very adult, very mature.

            Dean was appalled, but he didn’t try to ruin what Steven just set up. The woman looked back and forth between Dean and Steven, but she eventually agreed and let them go. Dean shook Steven’s hand as they walked down the hallway to Emily’s room.

            “I heard Sam’s voicemail and raced right over. I thought this might happen, but I didn’t think she was crazy enough to do it. I have to thank you both. You showing up when you did probably saved her life.” Steven smiled with gratitude.

                Dean nodded. “We should have put it together sooner… I mean, she wasn’t sleeping right, eating right, nothing was good about her since Marcus. Then suddenly she was gone. We didn’t even SEE the newspaper until she was gone. It’s my fault.”

    “Why?” Steven asked.

    “I failed as a brother. I couldn’t keep her safe.” he looked at the wall angrily.

     “All that counts is that you got there in time. I’m sure she’s thankful for that.” Steven patted his shoulder.

            They stopped outside the doorframe and looked in. Sam was standing in front of the bed, where Emily was back asleep. Sam heard their feet and looked at them, hand covering his mouth.

            “I had a nurse put her back to sleep.” He sighed.

            “Did she have to let it out?” Steven made a beeline to the side of the bed.

            “Oh yea.” Sam gulped. “She said a bunch of stuff. I don’t think she meant it though.”

            “Like?” Dean looked at him.

            “Like ‘send me back’ and ‘let me die, I want to die’.” Sam blinked at him.

            Steven sighed. “When she wakes up again, we should all hit the road.”

            They all sighed.

 

**Five Hours Later**

            Dean was carrying soup from the cafeteria in a little cup when he burned his tongue on the broth. He shouted and whined, sticking his tongue out to take the pain away. Sam was standing, unamused, outside of Emily’s room, which was now closed.

            “Doo, it wath hot.” Dean interjected.

            “I bet.” Sam rolled his eyes.

            “Ey, when di you guyth clothe her curtanths?” Dean mumbled.

            Sam blinked. “We didn’t. We thought you did that.” Sam looked at the door. “Emily?” he talked loudly into the door. No answer. “Hey!” he flung the window open.

            Emily jumped. “Jesus Christ!”

            Sam let out a sigh and Dean put his tongue back in his mouth.

            “You shouldn’t be up and around yet.” Sam looked at her with concern.

            She looked at them while folding her clothing, doing it slowly on purpose.

            “ _Clothing folding intensifies._ ” She whispered.

            “What?” they asked.

            “Nothing. Where’s my phone?” she placed one hand on her hip.

            “Why do you need your _phone_ of all things?” Sam asked sassily.

            “Because I’m the common teenager who can’t _bear_ to live without technology.” She stated with a straight face. Dean laughed. “I’m gonna call Steven. I bet you called them and they’re worried sick.” She set her folded clothing down.

            “Yea, I did. He’s waiting outside with his car ready. He wants to take you home.” Sam said, face looking disheartened.

            She laughed out loud. When the laughter died down, she kept a warm smile. “That dork…always worrying about me…”

            Before the brothers could question, she gave them her belongings.

            “Take these out to the Impala, okay? I’m gonna go talk to him.

            She walked out while holding onto her side; she pushed Dean aside lightly when he reached out to help. Down the hallway there were nurses giving her strange looks. She obviously wasn’t supposed to be out of bed yet, but she was fine enough to walk, even though she was limping. It wasn’t too late; it was a nice four o’clock in the afternoon. The sky was that dark shade of blue that you notice it’s starting to wind down the day. It’s usually a nice time. Stephen was leaning on the hood of his red convertible, the top was down. Flashy. His hands were in his pockets when she walked out of those automatic slidey doors. Those things were pretty rad. He rushed forward to help her, but she put her hand out to stop him.

            “I’m wounded, not dying.” She smiled while going to lean on the car.

            “Maybe not, but you mind as well be.” He sighed, sitting on the hood instead of leaning.

            “Please. He just wanted a little souvenir from The Terminator.” She scrunched her face up to look aggressive.

            Steven smiled. “At least he didn’t take your face, Em.”

            It was silent for a few moments. Steven rested his hand on her shoulder and rubbed it. She let her smile fade and looked up at him.

            “Please come home with me. Everybody’s worried sick…” he said softly, frowning.

            “Everybody? Or just you?” she asked.

            He didn’t answer, just looked away.

            “I want to go with my brothers, Steven.”

            “Why? How do I know you’re not going to seek revenge on anything again? How do I know I’m not going to lose you?” he asked with urgency.

            “I’m wrangled up in this now. Finding John, avenging our mom…their business is now my business. We’re a family, Steven.” She took his hand and held it.

            He looked at her sadly. “Just…just promise me that you’ll come and visit us…”

            She smiled. “Oh, please. Of course I will.”

            They both heard Dean whistle from across the parking lot. When they looked, he was waving his arms.

            “I think it’s time to go.” She explained, smiling.

            As she stood up from the car, he grabbed her arm. “Please be careful.”

            After he slid off the hood, she kissed his cheek. “I’ll be fine.”

            Walking away from him, she saw him rub his cheek in her peripheral vision.

            “So…you coming with us?” Sam asked, halfway out the Impala’s door.

            She scoffed. “I’m insulted that you thought anything else. Besides,” She opened the Impala door. “this is all our business now.”

            Dean grinned so wide. “Saving people, hunting things! THE FAMILY BUSINESS!” He shut his car door.

            Sam groaned as Emily started to laugh. Dean started the engine and revved it, scaring Steven in the process. Backing out of the hospital parking lot, Emily waved to her friend with a thankful smile on her face. He was thankful, too. Dean and Sam were also thankful. Everyone was thankful that the rain stopped.

            _Grant…do you hear the rain? I don’t either… But that’s a good thing._

She saw Steven and his car get smaller and smaller as Dean drove down the road.

            _Thanks to you…the rain has finally stopped._


	7. Black Blood Boiling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back on the saddle to finding their dad, the siblings come across a disturbance in Colorado, thanks to the help of Ringo. Lone behold, they found just who they were looking for. However, there are plenty of complications regarding how John and Emily are getting along. When all comes down to vampire slaying, perhaps everyone will understand the concept of family.

**Midnight**

            “Look, Dean, she’s asleep.” Sam said, nudging Emily’s leg with his fist.

            Dean looked back in the rearview mirror. “Good. She needs to let her stitches settle. No movement.” he was harsh in his tone.

            This time there wasn’t any faking. She was sleeping soundly, arms and legs splayed out across the rear seat. Lying down, she looked comfortable, for somebody who just got their intestines ripped out by a Wendigo. It was drizzling outside, but not enough to make Dean turn the windshield wipers on full blast. Sam yawned.

            “Just thinking about all this makes me tired.” his stomach growled. “And hungry.”

            Dean scanned the sides of the road for signs for food places and diners, anywhere they can sit down and have a good meal.

            “There might not be a place for awhile. Just hang tight for a little bit, okay?” he grunted, hiding a yawn himself.

            Sam sighed, crossed his arms, and laid back in his seat. He tried to close his eyes, but a ringing in his ears would interrupt the bridge to comforting sleep. It wasn’t constant ringing, it was a cell phone ring. His eyes opened up again and he felt around his pockets. It wasn’t his phone, and Dean’s ringtone wasn’t a robot talking. Sam turned in his seat and saw a little light pop through the fabric of Emily’s jeans. He leaned back and slid it out, the light illuminating a fraction of the Impala.

            “Aw, shit, dude, turn that light off.” Dean whined.

            “Yea, shut up.” Sam answered.

            “YOUR MOBILE IS RINGING. ANSWER! ANSWER! OR YOU WILL BE EXTERMINATED!” rang the phone.

            “What kind of ringtone IS that?” Dean muttered to himself.

            The caller ID read ‘Ringo’. Making a skeptical face, Sam slid the screen to the side to answer the call.

            “Hello?”

            “Jesus fucking christ, finally somebody answers the phone. I’ve been calling for thirty minutes and everyone’s ignoring me.” Ringo hollered on the other line.

            “Hi, Ringo. We’re fine, Emily’s fine. Steven should be home soon, shouldn’t he?” Sam answered annoyed yet calmly.

            “I don’t give a shit about that, have you had any intel on the sitch going on in Colorado?” she had calmed down.

            “A situation in Colorado?” Sam’s tone reached a more serious end. “What do you mean?”

            Dean’s attention was grasped now. He glanced over to Sam but he didn’t say anything.

            Ringo was silent for several seconds before she spoke again. “Never mind then. I figured you would know. Relay the message to Emily that we say hi.”

            “Wait! Ringo, what do you mean a situation in Colorado?!” Sam was shouting into the phone.

            “Sam.” Dean’s tone was sharp.

            The phone beeped as the call ended. Sam was left staring at a phone screen with a dog on it. It said ‘Doge is with ur prayers’. He growled and put the phone away. A yawn interrupted his anger for a minute before he went back to loathing a teenager.

“Good morning to you too, Sam…” Emily sassed upon awakening.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to yell…” he apologized.

“Oh, no, of course not.” she muttered sarcastically.

Dean cleared his throat, making her stop her sass shortly.

“What was that call about?” she murmured.

“Your buddy told us that there was a scenario in Colorado?” Sam tossed back her phone.

“Who, Ringo?” she asked.

“Apparently,” Dean started, “she knows something that we don’t know. And she refuses to tell us.”

She sighed and scratched her head. “Let’s stop and research. I’ll figure out what she meant.”

Ready to protest, Sam leaned forward, but Dean extended a hand to stop him. Sam retreated back into his seat, giving a huff. The Impala zoomed down the road, searching for a place to stop.

 

**Diner, About 2 a.m**

            With a small helping of fries in front of her, Emily scoped the screen for possible ‘situations’ throughout the state of Colorado. Her hospital was in Michigan, and the last roadsign she saw was Kansas. That was before she fell asleep again, so she didn’t know where they were exactly. She had Sam and Dean searching through nearby states, just in case Ringo was being cryptic.

            “Anything, Dean?” she heard Sam ask.

            “Nothing in Nebraska. What about you?”

            “Uh...a woman in South Dakota fell 10,000 feet out of a plane and lived.” Sam responded with a disturbed expression.

            “That’s Incredible!” Emily proclaimed with a gameshow voice.

            “Ha.” Dean got the reference.

            When she tried to eat a fry, she felt nauseous afterwards. Her stomach growled in protest as it hit the pool of acidic fluids inhabiting it. She held her stomach.

            “I told you eating wasn’t a good idea.” Dean scolded.

            “Yea, yea.” she burped painfully. “Oogh.”

            Sam took her fries away and she looked at him in horror. He felt no remorse and ate one while making direct eye contact. In the midst of this, Dean turned her laptop towards him and read what was on the screen.

            “Elkins?” Dean asked.

            “Elrkinsh?” Sam asked, mouth full.

            “Elkins?” Emily also asked.

            “Elkins...I know that name…” Dean continued his thought.

            Sam swallowed. “I don’t.”

            “Elkins...Elkins…” Dean searched through his bag.

            Sam took the laptop and Emily took back her fries. Sam read where Dean left off, face serious.

            “Police thought it was a bear attack. Now they think it was a plain robbery?”

            Emily spoke up. “A bear burglar.”

            Sam looked at her blankly.

            “Sorry…” she tried eating another fry.

            Dean whipped out that old, bound journal that was oh so important to him and flipped through the pages.

            “Aha, here we go. I thought I knew that name.” Dean smiled with success.

            “Friend of John’s?” Emily asked.

            “One of DAD’S friends.” he frowned, correcting her. “Anyway, it’s a Colorado area code; 970-555-0158. D. Elkins.

            “That must be what Ringo was talking about then.” Sam concluded, getting up.

            “But why would Ringo know that…?” she muttered to herself.

            “Doesn’t matter, time to go.” Dean picked up his bag and started leaving.

            “Oh..” she got up slowly and started hobbling towards the exit. “Guys, hold on…” she pushed the door open.

            When she left the diner, Dean honked at her. “Come on, let’s go!”

            She sighed and limped as fast as she could to the Impala, leaving her fries behind her.

           

**Cabin in Colorado**

            Even though Emily was born in the winter, she wasn’t exactly that fond of snow and cold weather. She tried to act tough when they approached the snowy slope of the mountain, but you couldn’t miss the sound of her rubbing her legs together to make some sort of warmth. When exiting the vehicle, Sam was quick about getting his lockpick out. Emily slowly made her way out and across the snow, but her stomach ached her. Keeping it slow, she kept a few paces behind Dean as he loaded a shotgun from his bag. Sam was hard at work with the lock, Dean was being...Dean, and Emily was inhaling the smell of spruce trees and another hefty scent. There was blood in the air. The problem was, she didn’t know if that was just blood from her wound or blood from something even worse. For her sake, she hoped it was just the first option. The sound of the door clicking open made Emily pace through the snow a step faster. When entering the cabin, Sam and Dean were discussing the mess in the place.

            “I found salt.” Sam announced.

            Dean got his flashlight out. “Great job, Sherlock.” he started sarcastically. “Now be more specific, is it ‘oops I dropped the popcorn’ salt or ‘demon protection’ salt?”

            “It’s a ring, so…” Sam replied.

            “So this guy knew John and was an obvious contender.” Emily stated, uncrossing her arms, being fully warmed.

            Dean picked up a journal from off the floor. He began paging through it like a madman. This time he didn’t bother to correct Emily by saying ‘dad’ instead of ‘John’. Sam walked up behind him.

            “That looks a lot like dad’s…” he said.

            “This one dates back to the 60’s…” Dean answered, not glancing away for a second.

            Emily inhaled again. The spruce was gone, but now there was the smell of wood floor and blood. Blood, blood, blood. It didn’t smell like hers anymore, so she sadly knew that the first option no longer applied to her. Suddenly she felt closed in, that they could be attacked at any moment. She tried persuading herself otherwise by convincing herself the doors and windows were locked, nothing could get in. Following her brothers into another room, her heart sank, understanding that convincing herself was useless. There was a gaping hole in the ceiling.

            “Well, looks like whatever got in, there was certainly more than one.” Sam confirmed, searching the room.

            Emily just stared at the hole, wide-eyed. Not wanting to, she inhaled again.

            “Hey, why do you breathe heavily so much, anyway?” Dean mumbled aloud.

            Ignoring him, she moved to the corner, pretending to be doing something useful. That included rubbing her stomach as if trying to relieve the pain she was feeling.

            “There was certainly a fight, that’s for sure.” Dean grumbled as he kneeled on the floor.

            “Emily, are you getting anything? Come on, help out.” Sam somewhat nagged.

            “Moral support.” she cleared her throat.

            “What?”

            “I’m being moral support.” she choked out.

            “Aha…” Dean whispered.

            “You got something?” Sam asked.

            “Yea, there’s scratches on the floor.” Dean took a scrap paper from the journal and rubbed the scratches with a pencil. “I think it’s a message.”

            As Dean rubbed the paper, Emily could see dried blood chip through it. She just focused on the mission of finding out what the message was instead of possible impending doom. Creepy mountain plus night equals no. Dean hopped up from the floor and stuck the paper in Sam’s face.

            “Look familiar?” he asked.

            “Three letters, six digits. The location and combination of a post office box. It's a mail drop.” Sam sighed.

            “I’m assuming John does it the same way, am I right?” she asked, crossing her arms again.

            “Yea.” Dean glared. “Just like how dad does it.”

            She rolled her eyes. “I’m cold as fuck, so I’m going back out to the car.”

            “But...it’s even colder out there.” Sam called after her.

            She didn’t turn around and waved. “I don’t care!” she shouted like a rebellious teenager.

            When she left the cabin, she rushed to the car and closed it hastily. After shivering for a few minutes, she curled up tentatively and carefully, being careful to not open her stitches. She pulled out a blanket from under the seats and covered herself up with them. Sighing with relief of the comfort and warmth, the black clouds of sleep came across her eyes faster than she realized. The next thing she knew, she had that flying sensation that made her feel alive, even when she was at mercy to sleep.

 

            There was a moment in her head where she literally sat down and stared at a wall for awhile. On the wall, there were sketches of bricks that drew themselves in, along with portraits and doodles of her friends. She wasn’t sure why these things were showing up, but she thought it had something to do with homesickness. A stool appeared with a little teacup. Teacups hurt her in a way that shouldn’t be felt. Not in a physical way, but in a way that made her heart die.

            “Hello, friend. May I sit with you?” someone said.

            Ringo appeared on the stool, smiling.

            “What are you doing here?” Emily was partially startled.

            “I just figured I would pop in for a visit. After all, you are quite busy with your family.” she picked up the teacup.

            “Oh come on, don’t give me that.”

            “Kidding, kidding…” she took a sip of what was now in the cup. “I’m glad you found your case in Colorado.”

            Emily jumped forward in her seat. “How did you know about that case? About Elkins?”

            “Friend, you gotta settle down.”

            “Don’t bring Dr. Dolan into this! He failed me in chemistry!”

            The stools they were sitting on began vibrating. Emily’s face read “?????” with no words.

            Black goop began splattering out of the teacup. Ringo glared at in in disapproval.

            “You know, both you and Marcus had pure black blood…”

            Emily fell out of the chair in fear and started to panic. “What the hell kind of dream is this?”

            “A man-made one.” she smiled.

            BUMP. A little bit of something dripped on her as the vibrating continued. BUMP. There was the wheels of a car.

            BUMP.

            Emily woke up, blinking rapidly.

                        It was dark, still. She felt like she just woke up from hibernation. A fantastic aroma of cold fries came from under her. There was a take-out box on the floor below her seat.

                        “But still, J.W.?” one of them said.

                        “You think it means John Winchester?” the other one asked.

                        Extremely groggy, she sat up and made her presence known.

                        “Well hey, it’s alive.” Dean joked.

                        “Have a nice nap?” Sam asked.

                        “Uh...yea.” she responded, rubbing her eyes. “How long was I asleep…?” this kind of waking up sensation was not really pleasurable. It was that feeling when you KNOW you slept for way too long.

                        They looked at each other. “Close to twenty hours.” Sam answered.

                        Dean pointed to the box. “It’s way cold, but I got you a burger from this place called Five Guys. Pretty damn good burgers, that’s for damn sure.”

                        “FIVE GUYS???” her eyes lit up like a Christmas tree.

                        With that, she ripped open the lid of the box and picked up the cold burger. It smelled fantastic, even though it was freezing. Eating faster than she should, Sam decided to bring her up to speed.

                        “So that message we found at the cabin, it was a drop off. We found a letter there.”

                        “Aretter?” she asked, mouth full.

                        “Yup. Oh, you got a little...uh…” Dean tapped his chin in the spot where Emily had some ketchup.

                        There was a knock on Dean’s window, which made him turn around like a twister. Emily backed herself into the seat behind Sam, holding her fries in front of her for protection. Dean went from cautious to surprised. He gasped and grabbed Sam’s wrist.

                        “Dad?” Dean asked the window.

                        The side door where Emily was just lying her head opened. John slid into the back seat and closed the door. Emily lowered her guard and relaxed in a sullen way, facing more to the rear of Sam’s seat instead of making eye contact with anybody. Her stomach growled back at her angrily.

                        “Hello, boys.” he smiled at them.

                        “Dad, what are you doing here? Are you all right?” Sam asked, concerned.

                        “Yea, I’m fine. I just read the news on Daniel, rushed right over. I actually saw you guys scoping the place out.” he replied.

                        Emily looked at him. “So that was you.”

                        His expression changed to angry disappointment. “You knew I was there. How possibly?”

                        “You smell like disappointment.” she said blatantly, turning back to her burger.

                        Sam hit her leg. “Why didn’t you come in?” he asked softly.

                        “Sam, you know why. To make sure you weren’t followed. Nice job covering your tracks, by the way.” John praised.

                        Dean puffed out proudly. “We learned from the best.”

                        Emily ate some fries while studying Dean at the present moment.

                        “So, John. Tell me how you know Elkins.” she asked, eyes fixed on him.

                        “He taught me a hell of a lot about hunting. What’s it to you?” he asked bitterly.

                        “Good, cause if he taught you about parenting, he did a piss poor job.” she responded with a smirk.

                        “Hey!” Dean shouted at her. “That’s enough.”

                        “Mhm.” she ate some more burger.

                        John took the envelope Sam was holding on his lap. “I should look at this…” he cleared his throat. “If you’re reading this, I’m already dead…” he laughed. “That son of a bitch.”

                        “What?” Sam asked.

                        “While you searched the place, did you see an old Colt revolver?”

                        “The case was empty.” Emily answered.

                        “What?” he half-shouted.

                        “The. Case. Was. Empty.” she broke it down for him.

                        “That means they have it.” John muttered after a few seconds.

                        “You mean whoever killed Elkins?” Sam asked.

                        John started to exit the car. “We have to pick up the trail.”

                        “Kay, bye.” Emily said with a sarcastic smile.

                        Sam stuck his hand out to John. “Hold on, wait. You want us to come with you?”

                        “Fuck.” she whispered.

                        “If Elkins was telling the truth, we have to find the gun.” John answered hastily.

                        “Why?” Sam asked irritantly.

                        Emily clapped her hands. “OBVIOUSLY the gun must be a really important antique that counts in your family pandemic that I’m not allowed to know about. Sure, I’ll help, because I just want to be involved in my own family, so I think I’ll start by saying that there was a smell of blood everywhere around that cabin, so may I GUESS what it is we’re DEALING with?” Emily announced with vivid facial expressions.

                        John just looked at her, puzzled. “Smell?”

                        “Yes, John, I have a great sense of smell. Maybe Hannibal is my dad instead of you. At least he’s nice.” she raised her eyebrows and creased her mouth.

                        Dean whispered. “Hannibal is a cannibal…”

                        She put her hand up. “Irrevelant.”

                        The only person that could come anywhere close to connecting the dots with her sense of smell was Dean, but nobody said anything. John just looked slightly taken aback.

                        “We’re dealing with what he killed best...vampires.” he finally said, looking Dean in the eye.

                        “Quick, call Stephanie Meyers! She can write about this!” she waved her hands rapidly.

                        “Shut up and eat your burger!” Sam shouted.

                        She burped in retaliation.

                        John cleared his throat and continued. “Most vampire lore is crap. A cross won't repel them, sunlight won't kill them, and neither will a stake to the heart. But the bloodlust, that part's true. They need fresh human blood to survive. They were once people, so you won't know it's a vampire until it's too late.”

                        Emily slurped some lettuce down that came detached from the rest of the burger. “Right on.”

 

**Motel, About 6:40 in the Morning**

                        Being made to sleep on the floor, Emily resented her own father even more than her capacity could handle. She felt her sides and stomach yelling at her with lack of proper cushioning below or around them. She didn’t sleep, she wasn’t comfortable, and she needed her meds. The problem was, John had done a bag check on her to see if she would ‘go rogue’ on him.

                        If he took my meds, I will seriously murder him. she thought to herself.

                        Dean and Sam were snoozing away on their beds while John occupied his nest on the couch. Her earbuds were in, Five Finger Death Punch jamming away at her eardrums. She had noticed John being up and about earlier, but she gave no care to whatever the fuck he was doing. Wanting to roll over, her stomach merely said no. Having an intestine ripped out and then surgically put back in was not, under any circumstance, fun. She took an earbud out when she felt an urge to vomit, which the doctor said wasn’t good. Getting up slowly, she finally noticed what John had been doing all morning. He had a radio blaring police reports for ninety minutes, most likely looking for the vampires. She didn’t know if she should wake up Dean or Sam, or just try to drink it off with some water. She exhaled frequently, having to go past John on the couch in order to get to the sink and glasses.

                        “Well, you sound like shit.” John pointed out.

                        She flipped him off as she walked by, keeping her eyes forward and set on the target sink.

                        “Unit 22 let me confirm. Mile marker 41,abandoned car. You need a workup?” a dispatcher on the radio said.

                        “Copy that. Possible 207. Better get forensics out here.” another one said.

                        “Got ‘em. Get ready, kid.” John said, standing from the couch.

                        “But...my water…” she pointed to the sink, even though he didn’t care.

                        He smacked Sam and Dean’s feet as he walked by them and said their names. He, himself, got his coat and shoes on. Emily still tried to go to the sink and get some water. She wasn’t ready to leave, but she felt she could make them wait. She retrieved a glass from the cabinet and filled it up with water, smiling in the process.

                        “I picked up a police call.” John started, packing up his belongings.

                        “And? What happened?” Dean asked.

                        “Woman called 911, she found a body in the street. It’s the vampires. Let’s go.”

                        Emily tried to make pleading eye contact with Sam, but he was in loyal pup mode. Dean was slow getting out of bed. As she drank, she put her stuff in her bag away with her one hand. Sam and John were busy talking about the hunt. When zippering her bag, she dropped her glass, water spilling out of the glass.

                        “Oh no!” she half-squealed.

                        Dean set his stuff down and wiped up the mess with his shirt. He looked at her while she looked at the water.

                        “Hey, Junior Mint, you okay? You don’t look so hot.” he asked, stuffing the wet shirt in his bag.

                        Without answering, Emily just got the last of her stuff together and went out the door. It wasn’t in a huff, it was just confusion huff.

                        “Vampires make her weird, I guess.” Dean shrugged.

 

**Impala at the 911 Site**

                        While John talked to police officers at the site, Dean and Sam stood outside the car and Emily sat on the trunk, criss-cross applesauce. Sam looked particularly pissy, crossing his arms and pouting.

                        “Why couldn’t we go with him.” Sam mumbled.

                        “Well, whatever the reason, I wanna sit on the car. I may not like him, but I still am curious of the game plan.” Emily said, looking up at him.

                        “Wait, you’re down with working?” Dean asked quizzically.

                        “Of course I am. I’m not comfortable, no, but I’ll work with it. A job’s a job.” she cracked her knuckles.

                        “Good attitude.” he wiped his nose.

                        John started walking back over, hands in his coat pockets, wearing somewhat of a frown.

                        “Don’t start, Sam.” Dean whispered.

                        “Don’t start what?” Sam growled.

                        She looked over, confused and suspicious. Was family drama finally going to surface? Time to get involved in the family ties.

                        “What’d you get?” Dean asked as John came over.

                        “It was definitely them. It seems like they’re heading west. We have to follow them.” he pulled on his jacket.

                        “How can you be so sure?” Sam retaliated.

                        Both John and Emily raised their eyebrows.

                        “Sam.” Dean hissed.

                        “I just want to know we’re going in the right direction!” Sam replied sharply.

                        “We are.” John answered, tone low and dad like.

                        “Mm.” Emily noised, getting off the car painfully. “I believe it, so Sam, you can calm your britches.” She smiled.

                        “Right…” John squinted. “But anyway, I found this.” John handed teeth to Dean.

                        “Uh...fangs...thanks dad.” he made a grossed out face.

                        “Not fangs, teeth. The second set descends when they attack. So, teeth.” John corrected.

                        “See, Sam? Come on in the car with me. I can see we’re easily disheveled.” She waved him over to her and they both got into the car.

                        Sam looked at her suspiciously. She was acting different. As Dean and John separated and made for their vehicles, Sam took a moment to talk with his sister.

                        “Your attitude changed pretty quickly...why?”

                        “Things are getting...how should I say it...juicy.” she smiled again.

                        Sam shifted to the driver’s seat as Dean sat in the passenger side, pouting.

                        “What?” she asked.

                        “...He insulted Baby…” he moped.

                        Sam’s expression heavily read “Told you so”. Emily sat back, buckled her seatbelt, and closed her eyes. Family drama was, well, dramatic, but it helped her clue into what she wasn’t earlier. With Sam driving behind John’s big-ass truck, the road was smooth yet tense at the same time. What she had pieced together about the family so far was still filled with some pretty dramatic plot holes.

                        First off, she knew that Mary was dead and John was trying to avenge her. Whatever this thing they’re all apparently after was a tricky son of a bitch, so John has taken the...initiative...to go and recklessly find it on his own. Plus, he was an asshole. There’s hints and tricks that it might be a demon, but nobody knew. There was also some pretty interesting drama between Sam and John, something that Dean knew about. Using the compiled information, there was still one thing lacking; herself. Where did she come from? If Mary died in 1983, how was Emily born in 1996? Numerous times before she had come up with theories, but all were shot to put. She tapped her cheeks with her thumbs as she covered her eyes with her hands. There was also her stay with Marcus and her amnesia before the age of between ten and twelve. Between those ages, things were painfully spotty. The rest was gone. She uncovered her eyes and looked at Dean, who was reading Elkins’ journal. He and Marcus had a long talk. Maybe Dean knew something she didn’t. Or then again, maybe Marcus was warning him about something? He had been adamant about her kin before, so why was he so comfortable talking to her brothers then? A flash of realization went through her head as she saw the brothers begin to talk.

                        “I just wish he would tell us what he thinks.” Sam started off angrily.

                        Did Marcus know about the Winchesters?

                        “So it is starting.” Dean rolled his eyes.

                        Everybody always avoided questions. Was Winchester the W word they steered clear from?

                        “We’ve been looking for dad for so long. Now you’re with him for a few hours and there’s static already?” Dean argued.

                        Wait. What did Marcus say back at the house?

                        “I’m happy he’s okay, it’s just…” Sam struggled. “It’s just the way he treats us. Like we’re children.” Sam spurted out.

                        Emily’s thoughts were interrupted with that statement.

                        “Oh, come on, Sam.” Dean over exaggerated his facial expression of disbelief.

                        “He does! He just barks orders at us, expecting to follow him like obedient little soldiers!” Sam shouted.

                        “Fathers do that for a reason.” she whispered, stalling their argument.

                        “Oh yea? What reason?” Sam turned around and asked.

                        “For the job! There’s no margin for error, all right?!” Dean shouted for her.

                        She wasn’t going to say that.

                        “Yeah well maybe that worked when we were kids but not anymore, all right. Not after everything you and I have been through, Dean. I mean, are you telling me you're cool with just falling into line, and letting him run the whole show?” Sam challenged.

                        Dean didn’t look very convincing. Right now, nobody did. “If that’s what it takes.” he said weakly.

                        Emily looked down at her lap, at her folded up hands. They were pale. Gasping, she felt her face and arms. She was cold and sweaty, icky and sick feeling. If now was the time to ask for her medicine, now would be a good time.

                        “Guys…” she started.

                        Sam shook his head, Dean’s phone rang.

                        Sighing, she sat back and waited. It was time to solve her puzzle.

                        _What did Marcus say?_

                        “All right, got it dad.” Dean hung up the phone. “Take the next exit.” Dean ordered.

                        _I was scared, I was panicked. He got out of bed...he was standing at the door to my room...what he said startled me then_.

                        “Why?” Sam asked grumpily.

                        “Dad thinks he has the vampires’ trail.” Dean explained.

                        “Really, how?” Sam asked, very angrily.

                        “I don’t know, he didn’t say.” Dean shrugged.

                        As Sam stepped on the gas pedal, Emily’s thoughts raced to their conclusion.

                        _“Calm down, I’m not dead yet.”_

                        The Impala passed and overtook John’s huge-ass truck.

                        _Not dead...yet…_

                        Sam frenzily turned the wheel, causing the siblings to lurch to the side.

                        _Did Marcus know he was going to die?_

                        Sam slammed on the brakes, causing Emily to lurch forward and jut her stomach into her seatbelt. Crying out, she punched the hold for the seatbelt, releasing it and chafing her stitches.

                        “GOD...FUCKING DAMMIT--!! SAM!” she painfully cried out.

                        Looking up, she saw that both car doors were opened. Grinding her teeth, she reached and clenched the door handle. Her hand slipped off. Confused, she looked at her hand with a quizzical expression. It was a dark color. Rubbing her fingers together, she realized it was her blood. She was surprised she didn’t smell it first. This was bad, she had probably opened something up. She heard a commotion going on outside, and she felt like crushing that party. She swung the door open and fell out, splashing some blood onto the road. Slowly, still clenching her teeth together, she stood up and limped to the first person she saw.

                        “What’s the big deal about this gun?!” Sam shouted at John.

                        Dean was standing sideline trying to avoid a severe conflict. Emily touched his arm.

                        “Dean…” she muttered.

                        “Junior Mint, this isn’t exactly the best--” he did a double take when looking down at her. “Aw dammit.” he sighed irritably.

                        “Get back in the car.” they heard John grunt.

                        “No.” Sam puffed his chest out.

                        “Sam! Would you hold the tough guy act and come here?!” Dean shouted. He grabbed Emily’s hands and held them out. “See what you did here?!”

                        John sneered. “We don’t have time for this.” he was referring to Emily.

                        Emily looked up, but she didn’t start anything because Sam was doing a well enough job of that already. Dean rushed to push Sam back to the car, but on his way back to her Sam stepped front again.

                        “This is why I left in the first place.” Sam mumbled.

                        John veered toward him. “What was that?!”

                        Emily covered her stomach as Dean was trying to find a solution to the problem that was only getting worse. They were stopped on a highway, at night, and her stitches had been ripped open thanks to Sam’s reckless driving.

                        “Can you get back to the trunk and get the first aid kit?” he grabbed her shoulders.

                        She nodded. “Just break them up.” she exhaled heavily.

                        She hobbled back to the Impala and popped the trunk open.

                       _What did Sam mean when he said that just now?_ She thought to herself as she wrapped herself up in gauze.

                        “I just want to kill some vampires...maybe John too…” she whispered to herself.

                        Standing up straight with her new bandages, she started to make her way to the middle of the dog fight. Dean was already well in the middle of doing that.

                        “Stop it, stop it! Both of you, just stop fighting!” he shouted.

                        In a huff, Sam turned back to the Impala. He passed Emily without an apology, which for now, was fine with her. Everybody needed a clear head. Before John could turn away, she tugged at his sleeve.

                        “Hey.”

                        “What do you want now?” he groaned.

                        “You were the last person to go through my bag. Have you seen my medication?” she asked, actually politely.

                        Dean was apalled. “Your medication is missing?”

                        “I’ve been trying to tell you guys that, but you’ve been a bit...preoccupied.” she looked at him.

                        Dean looked down guiltily.

                        John and Emily locked eyes. “Because if you do have them, I kind of need them.” she gestured to the blood that was, well, everywhere.

                        “You better not have bled in the car….” Dean muttered.

                        John searched around in his pockets and took out a pill bottle. “It looked empty, so I went and got it filled.”

                        She smiled and snatched up the bottle. “I’m gonna fucking kill you.” she turned and walked back to the car.

                        John also retreated to his truck, leaving Dean in the dark.

                        “Terrific.”

 

**Vampire Hideout, Day**

            “What a nice place. A big shack.” Emily whispered in the bushes.

            Dean hit her arm, shutting her up.

            There was a camaro with a vampire in it. That was all that was present until the shack doors opened, revealing another vampire inside. They both left cover and walked to each other in the plain sunlight. They started a conversation.

            “Guys, I think I’m gonna retreat. I don’t want to attract attention.” she started walking away.

            “What? Why?” Dean whispered.

            “I’m bleeding.” she said with a straight face.

            As she walked away, she heavily covered her wound so the vamps couldn’t smell it. She was listening to John talk and she forgot where they were going. He was explaining why the Colt gun thing was so damn important.

            “If it can kill anything, maybe it can kill the pimple on John’s nose. Ha!” she said to herself, getting into the Impala and lying down. She made sure to lock the doors.

            “And how great that John spilled the beans: a demon killed Mary! What a present under my fucking tree.” she adjusted some blankets to use as a pillow.

            Sighing, she realized that everything so far was so confusing. It was jumbled and gross, too much thinking and conflict. She inhaled deeply, getting the stench of blood from her wound.

            “I wonder if vampires like black blood. It’s like drinking ink. Well, then again, ink doesn’t smell like iron. Does it?” she squinted, trying to think.

            After closing her eyes for a few seconds, she heard a roar. It came from the shack. Getting up quickly, she unlocked the doors and popped open the trunk. She took out her big rifle and a machete that she bought back in the last town. Barreling through the woods, she tied her hair up in the bandana. There was suddenly more roaring coming from inside the shack. Sprinting uncomfortably from behind the bushes, she made a curveball around the side and went to the window. There was Dean, Sam, and John, all surrounded by awake and angry vampires. The window was so blackened it was hard to see. As she thought that, a rock was hurled through it, smacking her in the face. Glass crashed around her as she fell on the ground.

            “Boys, run!” she hears John shout.

            Run! something in her head shouted at her.

            She stumbled while getting up and was far behind the boys as they ran back up the hill. She heard something from behind; a grunt. She turned and saw John getting chased by who was most likely their head honcho. She stopped, aimed, and fired. The vampire reared back and cried out, giving John time to escape. The vampire set her sights on her, and when he did, he took in a deep inhale and smiled.

            “Well, that isn’t good.” she turned and ran with John.

            “You idiot, what the hell were you thinking?!” he shouted.

            “Saving your old ass!” she replied, breaking through the brush at the top of the hill.

            Dean and Sam were waiting for them, surprised and scared. Emily, huffing and puffing, pointed at John.

            “He’s okay, it’s all fine.” she covered her side and looked at her hands. No blood thankfully.

            “I thought you were in the car!” Sam exclaimed.

            “I was. But then someone roared and I bolted.” she stood up and calmed down.

            “What do we do now?” Dean asked.

            John smirked. “Find the closest funeral home.”

            Seeing that her brothers were confused, she sighed and turned them around. “Let’s go.”

 

            **Motel Room, Evening**

            Sam was pacing around the room while John was sitting in a chair, patiently waiting for Dean to return.

            “He shouldn’t be taking this long, I should go help.” Sam said worriedly.

            Emily, yawning, replied. “He’ll be fine…”

            She was lying on the couch, head resting on her backpack. She wanted her bandana, but she fought the urge to get it out.

            John cleared his throat and spoke up. “Sammy.”

            “Yea?” he asked.

            Emily listened closely.

            “You know what I did the first day you were born?” John asked.

            “No.”

            “I put 100 dollars in a savings account for you. I did the same thing for your brother. Every month I would put another 100 bucks in..until..” he sighed. “Anyway, this isn’t the life I wanted for you.”

            Emily flashed a smile, but quickly let it fade.

            “Then why’d you get so angry when I left?” Sam questioned, confused.

            “You gotta understand something. After your mother passed all I saw was evil, everywhere. And all I cared about was keeping you boys alive. I wanted you...prepared. Ready. Except somewhere along the line I ... uh ... I stopped being your father and I ... I became your, your drill sergeant. So when you said that you wanted to go away to school, all I could think about, my only thought was, that you were gonna be alone. Vulnerable. Sammy, it just... it never occurred to me what you wanted. I just couldn't accept the fact that you and me -- We're just different.” John explained, sighing deeply by the end.

            Sam laughed, Emily yawned.

            “Am I boring you over there?” John asked, trying not to become agitated.

            “I told you, Sam.” she closed her eyes and smiled.

            “What?” Sam asked.

            “Fathers do things for a reason.” she patted her backpack with a smile.

            This time, John was the one who looked confused, about what she meant and why she patted her bag.

            “Hey, kid.” John started.

            At this moment, Dean came through the door, holding a ‘totally inconspicuous’ bag.

            “Geez, bunch of security for a bunch of dead guys.” he mused, closing the door.

            “You get it?” John asked, standing up.

            Dean pulled out a bottle filled with blood.

            Emily sat up. “Dead man’s blood.”

 

**Road Near Vamp Hideout, Night**

Dean was leaning over the engine, hood turned up, with Emily sitting on the roof, to her own request.

“You’re crazy.” Dean hissed.

“I’m bait.” she gave him a peace sign.

“No, I agree with your brother, sweetie. You’re crazy.” a female voiced behind Dean.

Dean turned around, it was the female vampire named Kate.

“Car trouble?” she smiled.

Emily stood on top of the roof of the car, hands on her hips.

John, that’s the signal, you better fucking take the shot.

“Let me give you two a ride back to...our place.” Another vampire walked up behind

her. “There are some people you each should meet.”

Dean grinned. “Nah, I’ll pass. I usually draw the line at necrophilia.”

Kate backhanded him. Grabbing his face, he also was lifted into the air.

“I usually don’t get this comfy til the second date, but…”

There was crackling of sticks and leaves coming from behind Emily. She knew it wasn’t

            John, or even Sam, but she didn’t falter her stance. As Dean made a quirk about staying with girls for eternity, Kate was pierced with the arrow from John’s crossbow. The same happened to the vamp behind her. She swore as Sam and John emerged, indeed holding their crossbows.

                        “It barely even stings.” she smiled cockily.

                        John grinned. “Just give it time, sweetheart. The arrow’s soaked in dead man’s blood, that’s poison to you, isn’t it?”

                        With that, Kate fell to the ground with her vampire buddy. Emily took the opportunity to turn around to see who was waiting to pounce out at her. There was nothing there. She let out a sigh, thinking that it was fine to continue the plan. She got down and sat in the car. They drove for a few miles, a very few uncomfortable miles. Sam sensed her distress and turned around in his seat.

                        “A vamp in the trunk make you uncomfortable?” he asked, chuckling.

                        She gave him a half smile. “Ha, nah. It’s something else.”

                        “What is it?”

                        “Well, when we were back there, like waiting for you to shoot, I thought I was...being watched. Like, behind me.” she shrugged.

                        “It was probably nothing.” he turned back around.

                        “Yea…” she sighed.

                        John’s truck pulled over, where there was the clear brightness of a campfire in the close distance. John hopped out and gestured them all to step out of the vehicle.

                        “When did you light this?” She asked him.

                        “I didn’t, I found it.” he replied. “Toss this on the fire. Saffron, skunk's cabbage and trillium. It'll block our scent and hers, until we're ready. Dust your clothes in it.”

                        “Yech…” Emily stuck her tongue out.

                        “Stuff stinks!” Dean exclaimed.

                        “You sure they’ll come after her?” Sam asked, interrupting.

                        “Would you abandon somebody you care about to a monster?” she asked, not making eye contact and rubbing the shit on her arms.

                        “We aren’t monsters.” John scoffed.

                        “To them we are.” she replied, still no eye contact.

                        “After thirty minutes, the blood sickness will wear off. Then I want you boys out of here as soon as you can.” John warned.

                        “Ah, so I’m a boy now.” she smiled bitchily.

                        “I could give a shit if you got out of here, I want my boys out of here.” he turned on her.

                        “Dad, you can’t take ‘em all by yourself.” Dean interrupted.

                        “I’ll have her and the Colt.” John ignored his woe.

                        “But after. We’re gonna meet up after right? Use the gun together, right?” Sam squinted hopelessly and stepped forward.

                        “He’s going to leave you again, Sam.” Emily said, clapping her hands together. “He’s gonna take the Colt I saved his ass over, try to kill this demon, which, by the way, you have no clue where it even is, and then die in the process of doing so.”

                        “Listen, I’m just trying to keep you boys safe. You’re my children.” John defended.

                        “Dad, with all due respect, that’s a bunch of bull crap.” Dean folded his arms across his chest.

                        The three of them looked at Dean with shock. Emily smiled, knowing he’s finally seen some sort of light, he finally knows his dad is a dick.

                        “Excuse me?” John asked, shock in his eyes.

                        “You know what the three of us have been hunting. Hell, you even sent us on some hunts yourself. Junior Mint here helped with all of those, so if you’re so concerned about your ‘children’, you’re going to treat our sister with some respect, not just your boys. And obviously, you haven’t been monitoring our hunts, so you can’t be worried about our safety all that much.” he put his arm around Emily’s shoulders in support.

                        “You don’t understand…” John dodged the half about her.

                        “Oh yea? Then what is it? What’s keeping us out of the big fight?” Dean challenged.

                        “He can’t be as reckless if we were with him.” Emily answered.

                        John was silent, but then answered after a short time. “...Exactly.”

                        “What happens if you die? Dad, what happens if you die, and we coulda done something about it? You know I’ve been thinking. I ...think maybe Sammy's right about this one. We should do this together.” Dean looked at his siblings, Sam and Emily nodding in agreement. “We’re stronger as a family and you know it.”

                        Looking primarily at Emily in disgust, he clenches his jaw. “We’re running out of time. You do your job and get out of the area. That’s an order.”

                        Dean looked down emotionally, Sam clenched his jaw, and Emily stood there, arms now crossed.

                        “Then I’ll leave the mission if you let my brothers do what they feel they should do.” she boasted out in the silence.

                        Her brothers looked at her in astonishment. John laughed, as if in victory, and lifted his hands in celebration.

                        “That sounds like a wonderful idea!” he exclaimed.

                        Emily stepped away from her brothers and the Impala. “I’ll go back to the motel and wait for them. Just down this road, right?” she pointed in the direction John’s truck’s rear was facing into the darkness.

                        “Yes.”

                        “Okay. See ya, guys.” she started walking away.

                        “Emily, wait!” Sam shouted.

                        “It’s okay. I’ll see you guys soon.” she waved and returned a half smile.

                        She walked onward into the darkness, and when she knew they couldn’t see her any more, she hopped into the back of the truck bed, not in the weapons compartment, and hid under a cover.

                        “Sike, motherfucker.” she whispered to herself.

                        She waited, hearing what John told the boys to do. The boys were supposed to clear out the nest of vampires to save the hostages and prevent back-up, but they were supposed to stay there. John would take over with the trade of Kate for Colt. Whether they would meet up again after that or not...I suppose that was up to John. But Emily knew he was going to get his ass killed. She heard the Impala start up as they drove off in a different direction, farther and farther away from them. It seemed they were going the direction Emily was supposed to be ‘walking’.

                        “Oh well.” she whispered as she felt the powerful engine start up.

                        As John sped like a maniac, Emily realized that she didn’t have any of her own weapons, any tactics, just a rebellious escape plan in order to join a bold fight. John maneuvered around turns in a way a fifteen year old without his permit would. He also passed through stop signs, because every so often she would see a sign disappear through an opening in the cover. She also knew this ride was going to be a short one, it had to have been atleast twenty minutes since they applied their vampire repellent.

                        “Wait, I have my phone, duh…” she whispered.

                        As she hit the middle button on her phone, after getting it out of her pocket, she saw a text message.

                      _“So, how’s the vampire hunt going?_ ” it was from Ringo.

                        “What the fuck…” Emily whispered. “Maybe an outside source of Marcus’s let them in on the info.” she dismissed.

                        The truck suddenly halted, shifting any cargo forward. Emily braced herself, in case John came to the back to gear up, but the footsteps were going toward the front of the truck. She also heard talking. Sadly, she couldn’t hear a lot of the talking, and she couldn’t break her cover enough to get close. Getting a whiff of her arm, she was repulsed, meaning they still couldn’t smell her person. She decided to uncover herself slowly and quietly, then adjusting so she could peek over the roof. She saw three vampires, John, and then Kate, who looked to be fully conscious now. John was holding a knife to her throat, while who must have been her mate, was extremely and dangerously on edge. He spoke at them.

                        “Kate, are you all right?”

                        “Dead man’s blood…” she answered.

                        “You bastard.” The mate answered back.

                        “I want the Colt. Elkins’ gun. Trade.” John didn’t even hesitate.

                        “Is that what this is all about? I mean, you can’t shoot us all, right? We’ll kill you.” the mate didn’t look like he was in a negotiating mood.

                        “Oh, I don’t need it for you. I need it for something else.” John snickered. “Put the gun down or she goes first.”

                        “All right. Just don’t hurt her.” as the mate spoke as he slowly set the gun in the middle of them, on the road.

                        The next move John made really could have ended him. He walked forward, still holding Kate, and bent down to get the gun. That brought the knife away from her throat, giving her the opportunity to work at her wrist ties. Emily saw her wrists snap free, so she had to think of a plan as quick as she could.

 

**Sam and Dean, Behind John’s Truck**

                        Sam and Dean were hiding in the bushes behind their dad’s truck, finished with their business back at the vampire nest. All of the hostages were freed, thanks to their plan.

                        “Dad looks like he’s making the exchange now…” Sam whispered.

                        “I wish Junior Mint were here, she’d love kickin’ ass.”  Dean whispered back.

                        Sam squinted in confusion. “We didn’t pass her on the way to the hideout.”

                        As he said that, a figure stood up in the back of John’s truck. Sam raised the crossbow in preparation to shoot. Before he launched the arrow, something about the figure struck him as peculiar.

                        “Dean.”

                        “Yea, I see it too.”

                        “Is that person holding their side?” Sam asked.

                        “She didn’t.” Dean looked at Sam.

                        “Oh my god.” Sam stood up.

                        “We have to stop her before she does something stupid.” Dean stood too.

           

                        “I’m about to do something really stupid…” she whispered to herself.

                        She jumped onto the roof of the car and shouted.

                        “HEY. GET A WHIFF OF THIS.” she cut her arm on a knife she swiped from the truck bed.

                        With that, Kate’s lunge toward John was interrupted by the enticing drips of black goop dripping from the veins in Emily’s arms. Kate stared, giving Sam and Dean time to jump out of the bushes and shoot the vampires with their crossbows. Several side vampires fell to the ground, and at that, the head vampire grabbed Sam by the throat, making all hasty actions stop immediately. Dean grabbed a machete, but the vampire had other plans.

                        “I’ll break his neck! Put the blade down.” he threatened.

                        Dean dropped the machete and Emily slowly made her way off the roof, each step making Kate smile wider and wider.

                        “You people. You can’t just leave us alone. We have as much right to live as you do.” the vampire scowled at them, Sam losing air by the second.

                        “Not really.”

                        John had the Colt in his hands. The smirk on his face resembled Dean’s, cocky and dangerous. As he pulled the trigger, it seemed like it all went in slow motion; the bullet pierced the vampire between the eyes, sending a type of electricity through him that resembled his sweeping death. He looked shocked as his body fell forward to the ground. Emily locked eyes with John, the world still going in slow motion. She slid off the car as it appeared he was reloading. Kate lept forward at John, but she was stopped and pulled into a getaway car. Dean and Sam jumped at their dad. At first she thought it was in congratulation, but they just took the gun from him. The world was going full motion now, Sam patting her back and John smiling at everybody. All but her.

                        _Just now...I could’ve sworn he was going to shoot me._

                        “Em, that was so stupid.” Dean scolded. “But you saved dad’s ass.”

                        “What do you mean?” John asked, confused.

                        “Kate was breaking from her ties. She was gonna kill you, so I cut myself open.” she explained.

                        Sam took his shirt and pressed on her cut.

                        “Good work, boys.” he praised. “But you. How did you get here?”

                        “I hid in your truck bed. It isn’t rocket science.” she smirked.

 

**Motel Room, Morning**

 Emily was taking her medicine with a glass of water when John entered the kitchen.

“So.”

She turned to him. “What?”

“You lied to me back there.” he crossed his arms.

“You’ve lied to me a lot, John.” she gulped more water. “So because of that, I want to know where we stand.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s obvious, neither of us are leaving any time soon. Where do we stand here?”

John didn’t look at her, just looked past her. “You did save my ass back there. And so did the boys, so maybe they do have a point.”

“Everybody is stronger when they have at least one person behind them.” she replied. “Whether it be family or friends.”

“What did you mean before, kid?” John asked.

“What?”

“That fathers do things for a reason. What happened to you?”

She tossed the glass in the sink, cracking it substancially.

The boys interrupted by dropping their bags on the ground, Dean raising his eyebrows while putting his arm around Sam.

“We all ready to go?” Dean asked.

“Yea.” Emily answered, looking a John.

“Let’s all go.” John answered.

“You mean it?” Sam asked, bright eyed.

“Yes. We’re stronger as a family.” John smiled.

Emily joined them with her bags, looking John in the eyes one last time. She didn’t want him to answer his own question. He didn’t deserve to know.


	8. Blood and Sulfur (Pt. 1 of 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After finding the Colt, the family agrees to work together to find the yellow eyed demon. In her own time, Emily has her own nightmares about the demon with the red eyes, and things with her are slowly coming together, however, her best friend Ringo seems to know the most. Meg demands a trade with John, not just for the Colt, but for Emily as well. Emily opens a door to a path she was unaware even existed.

**Emily’s Dreams**

                        There’s been a lot of these dreams lately, the ones with the heat and the fire. They usually all started the same, walls and walls of eyes, blood, and writing. Sometimes there were doors that led to other rooms with other eyes and other doors. Eyes were red, white, black, and at the very end, they would turn yellow. Sometimes people she knew would be in cages, sometimes she would see blurred out faces. They felt familiar, it burned her heart to not see their faces. She tried getting one out before, but the cage erupted in fire. In this particular dream, however, she sat down in the room with the piercing yellow eyes.

                        “I’ve been having these dreams for a reason, Ringo, and I expect you to answer me.” she had her eyes closed, as if to summon her. When she opened them again, she was sitting across from her.

                        “I think you interrupted my watching of cartoons.” Ringo said.

                        “The Beatles cartoon?” Emily asked.

                        “Yes.”

                        “Things have been getting weird with you. First of all, you gave my medical file to the boys. You’ve also been sending us cryptic texts and phone calls, knowing where we’re going and what we’re doing. I’m not stupid, Ringo. Tell me what’s going on.”

                        “Are you talking to the real me or the dream version of me?” Ringo changed the subject.

                        “Ringo, I’m serious. Tell me what you’ve been up to. Tell me what’s going on.”

                        “You should be more worried about the demons, friend.” she warned.

                        “So we are close.” Emily concluded.

                        “I guess so.” Ringo shrugged. “But you shouldn’t be afraid of old yellow eyes, or not even the normal black-eyed assholes running around. There’s just one in particular that you gotta be worried about. His eyes are the red ones….not the yellow ones.”

                        “How do you KNOW this, Ringo?!” Emily stood up in anger.

                        “You don’t even know if you’re talking to Ringo. You’re asleep, dear.” she said a-matter-of-factly.

                        “I’ve been having these dreams for two weeks, Ringo! What do they mean?!”

                        “Don’t yell at me.” Ringo frowned. “And you don’t tell your brothers about these, so you shouldn’t blame me.”

                        “Nothing is adding up! Ringo, explain this to me!”

                        “Nah, I’m good.” Ringo stood up now. “I’m leaving.”

                        “Wait!”

                        “What month is it?” Ringo asked unexpectedly.

                        “August.” Emily answered, confused.

                        “I’ll relay that information.” Ringo disappeared.

 

            **Motel Room, Morning**

                        Emily sat up sweating. She had put her hair up the night before, but it didn’t matter. It’s amazing that just two weeks ago they were at the top of the rockies and it was snowing. Unless that isn’t how weather works. She wore a tank top and some running shorts to bed these days. She checked her phone’s weather app; there were sporadic weather patterns in all of her pin-pointed states, including snow in Washington, Maine, Colorado, and New Mexico. The strange part is that the weather changed every hour. Putting her phone away, she took her medication. The pain from her insides had been subsiding, the scar beginning to set in. Because of the driving incident two weeks ago, some of the stitches had been forcibly pulled out, leaving the strangest path for a scar to take. Getting changed, eating, and moving had become less of a struggle. She just had to watch how MUCH she ate. The bathroom was still a struggle, but that would be too much information.

                        “Em, are you up?” Sam knocked on her door.

                        Due to the bigger group, they had rented a larger selection of rooming. Similar to a condo you would rent at the beach, it gave Emily her own room instead of the floor or the couch.

                        “Yea, I’m up.” she answered while getting changed.

                        “Did you do your weather check?” he asked through the door.

                        “Yea.” she answered, putting jean shorts on.

                        “Cool, now hurry it up. Dad says he found something.”

                        She opened the door and sassily looked at him, a look which he returned. Walking into the main room, where all the evidence was hanging on the walls, Dean was listening to John talk. They both turned when they heard her and Sam walk in.

                        “Now that we’re all here,” John looked at her, “I can tell everyone what I pieced together.

                        “You said something about a trail.” Dean started.

                        “It starts in Arizona, then New Jersey, California. Houses burned down to the ground. It's going after families, just like it went after us.” John explained.

                        “Families with infants?” Sam asked.

                        “Yeah. The night of the kid’s six month birthday.” John nodded grimly.

                        “And I was six months old that night?” Sam was turning pale.

                        “Exactly six months.” John confirmed with a nod.

                        “So basically, this demon is going after these kids for some reason. The same way it came for me? So Mom's death...Jessica. It's all because of me?” Sam was tearing himself up.

                        Jessica was a name Emily hadn’t heard in a while. She had just been listening so far, but now she just wanted to deter his path of thought.

                        “Sam, you don’t know that.” Dean deterred.

                        “Well I know that, Dean.” Sam lashed back.

                        Dean was starting to get frustrated. “For the last time, what happened to them is not your fault!”

                        “Sure, maybe not my fault, but it is my problem!” Sam shouted back.

                        John stood up. “Boys, calm down!”

                        Emily didn’t exactly know what to say, this really wasn’t her problem. She just wanted to help them solve it. Sam took a deep breath before talking again.

                        “So why does he do this? What exactly is he after?”

                        “Look, I don’t know. I wish I had more answers, but I don’t. I’ve always been a step behind this.” John sighed unhappily.

                        Emily began walking around and analyzing the information on the walls. John continued talking.

            “There’s signs when he’s close by. Weather fluctuations, electrical problems, cattle deaths.”

Emily chimed in. “It was snowing two weeks ago. And it’s supposed to snow again in an hour.”

            “Let me guess, this happened in Lawrence?” Sam asked, ignoring Emily’s statement.

            “And in Palo Alto, before Jessica.” John added. “And these signs, they’re starting again.

                        “Where?” Sam asked.

                        Emily ripped a newspaper off of the wall. “Salvation, Iowa.”

 

                        Within the hour, they had packed all of their belongings into their separate vehicles. Emily was beginning to question her judgement whether to tell John and the boys about her dreams. It’s not like they didn’t know they were close, so would it really affect the rest of the situation? The boys got into the car, Emily following up with sitting in the back seat. The more into the case they got, the more detached she felt from her brothers. They were following their dad like proper soldiers. She was the bad egg, the only one that seemed to disagree with the plan they were currently following. For two weeks she had held her disagreement to herself, she kept it to herself for the sake of the case. For the sake of the family. Sam had become detached from her the most, it seemed. Ever since that moment on the highway, or even longer than that, since the asylum, there had been something in his head that she couldn’t unravel. That saddened her.

Along the roads, the dew and mist was beginning to settle. Emily was beginning to get antsy, she never was good with long car rides. Yawning, she continuously checked her phone, looking for text messages or calls that she could have possibly missed, even though she had been gripping her phone for the whole four hours since they left Colorado. Hoping they’d reach their destination soon, she decided to lie down. Nobody in the front had any objections, so she just lulled to sleep without any objections.

 

**Emily’s Dreams**

            “All right, I’m on my way to Salvation. Where else am I supposed to go? What else am I supposed to do?” she beckoned for Ringo to appear.

            Receiving no answer, she walked through the door with the red writing on it, which usually wasn’t there. In real logic, that would not have been the best idea, but because she was dreaming, it really didn’t matter. The room was empty. By empty, it was completely void of doors, eyes, blood, everything. It was just a white room. This looked familiar to her, but she couldn’t turn back. Something told her not to.

            “Look at me, talking to myself so an apparition will appear…” she mumbled to herself.

            “You know what I just realized?” Ringo appeared next to her.

            Emily jumped.

            “Marcus sounded like that guy from Teen Titans. That villain dude, Slade. Maaaan, you loved that guy. Now I know why.” Ringo smirked.

            “Now isn’t the time, Ringo. What do you want?” Emily sighed.

            “Me? You’re the one who called.” Ringo walked further into the room. “Plus, it’s too hot in that other room. I was waiting for you to find this place.”

            “Why?”

            “Because you aren’t being watched in here, I was wondering if you picked that up or not.” she turned to face her, straight faced.

            “Well, I did.”

            “You still haven’t told them, have you? About these nightmares. You told us, but why won’t you tell your brothers?”

            Emily evaded the question by turning back and opening the door again. She was met with the body of a man with piercing red eyes, who was only a bit taller than her and dark hair. Ringo gasped and ran for Emily and the door.

            “EMILY, CLOSE THE DOOR!”

            “Found you.” the man smirked.

 

**Reality**

            Emily rolled onto the floor of the Impala with a gasp. They had stopped, pulled over onto a side road adjacent to the highway. Sam looked at her with a perplexed expression before getting out. John hand Dean were already outside, so Emily sat up and opened the door.

                        “--call from Caleb.” she overheard John finish.

                        “Is he okay?” Dean asked, clearly concerned.

                        “He’s fine. But Jim Murphy’s dead.” John gulped and looked to his feet.

                        The boys were clearly affected, but Emily guiltily felt no remorse for the loss of this man. Also, she didn’t wish to ask who this man was. All she figured was that this Jim man was fairly close to the family.

                        “Pastor Jim...how?” Sam asked, holding back depression.

                        “His throat was slashed.” John explained. “Caleb said they found traces of sulfur in the church.”

                        “A demon.” Emily whispered instinctively.

                        When John nodded, Dean asked “THE demon?”

                        “I don’t know...but maybe he knows we’re getting close.” John swallowed.

                        Emily refused the urge to speak up about her nightmare. Now was not the time, it clearly was not. John pounded on the side of his car, as if to ease the pain in some way.

                        “Now what?” Emily asked.

                        “Now we act like every second counts. There's two hospitals and a health centre in this county. We split up, cover more ground. I want records. I want a list of every infant that's going to be six months old in the next week.” John instructed.

                        “I’ll go with Sam.” Emily volunteered.

                        “Do what you want.” John didn’t look at her.

                        “Dad, that could be dozens of kids. How could we know which one is the right one?” Sam asked, as if in terror.

                        John looked at him. “We check ‘em all that’s how.” he answered aggressively.

                        Emily looked up at Sam. “We don’t have any other ideas.”

                        After John nodded at them, Emily and Sam got back into the car. She looked at her lap when Dean slipped back into the driver’s seat. He looked back at her.

                        “If you have any information, tell me right away. Or Sam. Okay?” Dean raised his eyebrows in understanding.

                        She nodded, knowing she already was hiding information from them.

 

**Salvation Children’s Hospital**

            Emily fixed her hair and makeup before heading into the main reception area with Sam. She had to pass off as an agent in order for them to gain access to the records. Surprisingly, Sam was able to pull off the job without having her say anything. All she had to do was look angrily official and stare people in the eyes. The receptionist guided them both to an empty table where she set some files already in hand.

            “You both can start out with these.” she chimed as she returned to the desk.

            Emily cracked her fingers. “I’ll get the girls, you get the boys.”

            “Why?”

            “Because sexism.” Sam gave her a look. “No, Sam, because I feel like it.” she grabbed a file.

            Sam shrugged and looked through a file as well. He had come prepared with a notebook and pen, Emily had not.

            “Can you uh...spare a square?” she smiled.

            Sam looked up, unamused. Sighing, he ripped some sheets out for her to write on.

            “Rad. Thanks.”

            “No problem.” he said under his breath.

            Time after time, the receptionist came back to deliver more files. Emily thanked her each time, while Sam looked to be deep in concentration. Sighing, Emily took half of his files and read through them faster than he was. When he finished, he looked up in astonishment.

            “How’d you finish so fast?” he asked.

            “Each kid is different...but most are exactly the same. I couldn’t detect why the demon would want to go after them. They’re all fussy, an average child that cries and throws tantrums.”

            “Meaning?”

            “I’m not sure. It’s just a feeling, an instinct. Sam, none of these kids fit the bill.”

            Sighing, again, Sam packed up his notes and stood up. Emily followed him in pursuit as he left through the front doors. She realized that if she was going to tell any of them about the nightmares, Sam would know best. And he would react better than John or Dean. As the automatic doors closed, Emily folded up her notes.

            “So Sam.” she smiled, not looking at him yet.

            “Huh?” Sam asked, somewhat painfully.

            “I’ve been having these sort of nightm--” Emily walked right into him.

            Sam was stopped on the sidewalk, eyes clenched shut. He had his hand over his forehead, as if he were suffering from a bad migraine.

            “Sam?” Emily asked again, stepping in front of him.

            She shook him somewhat. Sam was looking around, gasping, clamping his eyes closed. He was either having a stroke or some sort of seizure.

            “What the hell?” she whispered.

            Sam finally snapped out of it, allowing Emily to breathe a sigh of relief. She gave him a hug.

            “What? What’s that for?” Sam asked, still painfully.

            “You freaked me out.” she mumbled into his coat.

            Sam pulled the town map out of his bag, still having a pounding headache.

            “Train….a train….”

            “What about a train?” Emily asked, still concerned.

            “Help me look for a house next to the train tracks. That’s where we need to go.” he instructed.

            As they walked, Emily asked for answers instead of providing them like she had planned. They ran, sped walked, and navigated the entire time she spoke.

            “Sam, what exactly was that?” she asked, running with him.

            He hesitated. “A vision.”

            Her eyes widened. “A vision? Where the hell have I been… Do you get these alot?!” she was more interested than anything right now.

            “Yes, actually. First they were nightmares, but now I get them while I’m awake.” he explained.

            They stopped across the street from a row of houses.

            “Nightmares?” she asked, catching her breath.

            Sam ignored her and scurried across the street, it seemed he was heading straight for a mother and her baby. Emily connected the dots, so she followed him across the street.

            “Hi there!” he fake smiled and greeted the dark haired woman.

            Emily smiled as she walked up next to him.

            “Here, let me hold that for you, you don’t need your umbrella anymore.” he took hold of the stroller while she put her umbrella away, still smiling.

            “Oh, thank you.” the woman smiled back.

            Sam looked at the baby in the stroller. “Aw, how cute! Is she yours?”

            “Yea.” she answered.

            Emily also took a look at the baby, the baby looked back at her.

            “Oh, I’m so sorry, I’m terribly rude. I’m Sam, this is my sister Emily. We just moved in one block down.” he shook her hand.

            “Well I’m Monica and this is Rosie.” she gestured to the baby.

            “Hi, Rosie…” Emily said cutely to her.

            This is the baby.

            “So Monica, how long have you lived here?” Emily asked.

            “My husband and I moved in just before Rosie was born.” Monica answered happily.

            “So how old’s Rosie?” Sam asked, still smiling.

            “She’s six months today. Exciting, right? She’s growing like a weed.” Monica smiled and walked off as her husband approached in his truck. Emily looked at Sam.

            “It’s them.” she acknowledged Sam.

            “That means the vision was right.”

 

**Later, Motel**

            Emily was the only person standing at a sitting party, and that was because she was busy taking her medicine. Sam still looked like he was in pain, so while she was up, she grabbed him some Tylenol. He nodded in thanks.

            “A vision.” John asked flatly.

            “I think it’s pretty cool.” Emily chimed in.

            John gave her a look, which she returned with an eye roll.

            “Yes. I saw the demon burning a woman on the ceiling.” Sam sighed painfully.

            “And how do we know that this woman’s child is the right one?” John asked assertively.

            “Because I can tell.” Emily answered.

            “What?” they all asked.

            “Monica said it herself while I was looking at Rosie. She never fusses, she never cries, she’s a loyal, obedient baby. A special baby, and there’s another thing I just can’t put my finger on…” she looked away to think.

            “Is that it? An intuition?” John was getting annoyed now.

            “AND the fact that whatever I see actually happens. It does every time.” Sam added.

            “They started as nightmares, but then they started happening while he was awake.” Dean stood up and walked across the room.

            “So this is a daily occurrance?” John asked. He turned to Emily. “Did YOU know about this?”

            “Just a few hours ago. Please, don’t give me that look. Calm your panties, John.” she drank some water.

            “When were you going to tell me about this?” John stood as he asked Dean.

            The three siblings looked at John. Dean answered.

            “We didn’t know what it meant.”

            “If something like this happens to your brother, you pick up the phone and call me.” John said.

            Emily almost spat out her water and smiled disgustingly.

            Dean took a stride towards John. “Call you? Are you kiddin’ me? Dad, we have tried to call you in the most important of times and you never picked up. Not once. Getting you on the phone? I’ve got a better chance at winning the lottery.”

            “Burn.” Emily said to herself.

            “Guys, vision or not, this family’s about to go through the same shit we went through.” Sam argued.

            “No they’re not. Nobody will, ever again.” John said at him.

            After John spoke, Sam’s cell phone rang. He picked it up, it was an unknown number.

            “Hello?”

            From the sound of it, it seemed like a female had called Sam. As she dumped the remainder of her water in the sink, Sam spoke again.

            “Meg.”

            All of them looked at Sam in unison.

            “Last time I saw you, you fell out a window. That was a seven story drop.” he continued.

            Sam didn’t talk, but he looked at John.

            “My dad? I don’t know where my dad is.”

            She  must have said something to him because suddenly Sam’s face sank in defeat. He handed the phone to John.

            “This is John.” he gripped the phone tightly.

            At this point, Emily stood between her brothers, listening for the dialogue to commence. There was a long pause on John’s end, but Emily saw his face sink as Meg continued talking on her end. Suddenly John’s face turned fierce.

            “Caleb?”

            The siblings looked at him, the brothers looking more uneasy than Emily. She had no idea who Caleb was. There was another pause.

            “I...I don’t know who you mean…” John made eye contact with Emily and gulped. “And I have no idea what you mean.”

            Another silence. “Caleb! CALEB!” John turned frantic, but then his face faded away into bitterness. “I’m going to kill you.” he growled. “Do you know that?”

            After another period of talking, John looked as if he were evaluating something extremely crucial. He let out a long, long sigh before speaking again.

            “All right. I’ll bring them.” he looked at Emily again. He then looked troubled. “It will take me a day’s drive to get there.” he looked angry now. “Well, that’s impossible. I can’t just get a gun on a plane.” he looked at the phone. Meg had hung up.

            “Dad...is Meg a demon?” Sam asked.

            Emily didn’t hesitate. “If she isn’t one herself, she’s possessed by one.” she clenched her teeth.

            “What do we do?” Dean asked.

            “I’m going to Lincoln.” John stated.

            “What?” The brothers protested.

            “I don’t have a choice. If I don’t go, a lot of people die. All our friends die.” John kept looking at Emily.

            “What?” she asked, annoyed.

            “Meg asked me to bring both you and the Colt with me.” John admitted.

            Emily’s eyes widened. Sam and Dean looked at her in a confused shock.

            “I told her I’d bring both of you. I’m not exactly going to do that.” he continued.

            “Hmph. Missing an opportunity to give me up is mighty surprising. Thanks.” she smiled cockily.

            “Dad, you can’t just hand over the Colt.” Sam said.

            “I’m not going to. I’m going to give her a fake one.” he smiled.

            “What, just pick one up at a pawn shop and hand it to Meg? What about Emily not being there? She’ll gut you like a fish.” Dean retaliated.

            “I’ll deal with that later. But boys, this is a trap. I’m giving you three the Colt. You’re going to end this tonight.” John grabbed his coat. “I want Sam to go to college. I want Dean to have a life. And I want Emily to be raised out of an asylum.”

            The boys wanted to insert an argument, but they were unable to. Surprised and feeling warm, Emily hopped forward.

            “John.”

            “Yes?”

            “If you see a red-eyed demon, get the hell out of there.” she warned.

            All eyes were on her again.

            “Just trust me. Get out of there.” she gritted her teeth.

            After a long moment of looking at her puzzledly, he just nodded.

            “Right. Thank you.” he looked up at the boys. “Boys!”

            “Yes sir?” they both answered.

            “We’re ending this tonight.” John stomped outside.

 

**Outside Monica’s House, Night**

            John had left them on those words and with the promise to return. Sam nor Dean had said a word to her since they left the motel. She felt bad. She hadn’t disclosed any information about her nightmares. But now that it was down to the wire, she needed to now.

            “The red-eyed demon is from my nightmares.” she blurted out.

            They both looked back. “What?”

            “In these nightmares...there’s eyes on walls. People in cages. For two weeks, they were the same. The same nightmare over and over and OVER…” she sighed, “....I didn’t know what it meant, but I didn’t need to tell you that we were getting close. Because we were, that proved it. The last one I had...I had opened a door and there he was. A man was standing there with piercing red eyes...like Meg’s, but...red...almost bloody looking. He said words...that he had found me. I didn’t...and don’t...understand...but I needed to tell John.” she looked to her brothers, sorry and pleading.

            Dean swallowed hard. He knew what this was.

            “Why didn’t you say something sooner?” Sam asked.

            “It isn’t your problem. If he wants me, it must be mine.” she lowered her head.

            “No.” Dean said, somewhat triumphantly.

            “What?” she looked up.

            “This is our problem now too.” Dean looked at her the same way he looked at Sam prior to arriving. He meant it.

            She fist bumped him and smiled.

            “I wonder how dad’s doing…” Sam wondered.

            “Way to kill the moment, dude.” Emily half-smiled.

            Half-smiling back, he continued. “I’d just feel better if he were here backing us up.”

            “Ah, come on. I’m here.” she teased.

            They all laughed light-heartedly. In the midst of the laughter, the wind began to pick up and Emily began to sweat.

            “This doesn’t seem real.” Sam said.

            “Huh? What do you mean?” Dean asked.

            “After all this time, we’re here.” Sam looked down at his hands.

            “We just gotta keep with the job.” Dean clapped.

            Emily’s eyes began to hurt as she remained smiling with them, but she knew that something didn’t feel right.

            “Guys...I just wanna thank you.” Sam let his smile fade.

            “For what?” they both asked.

            “For everything. You always had my back, you know? I know we’ve had our differences, but you’re my family. I care about you both. I just wanted to let you know...just in case….--”

            “HEY WHOA THERE.” Emily interrupted.

            “Whoa, don’t be giving us the ‘in case something happens’ speech. I don’t wanna hear it.”

            “I should punch you for that.” Emily huffed.

            Dean grabbed his phone. “Now I’m all paranoid…” he dialed John’s number.

            Emily was hit with a shock of pain. “Agh..!?”

            Sam turned. “What is it?”

            Dean just looked in the mirror, fear clouding his eyes.

            Red eyes. There were just red eyes. “He’s close I think?? I’m just going to assume that...this fucking hurts, fucking dammit..”

            “Dad isn’t answering.” Dean hung up the phone.

            The radio started to chatter rapidly as the wind picked up aggressively. Emily looked out the window and felt really hot. She got out of the car first and leaned against the car.

            “He’s totally here.” she made the boys get out.

            Dean ran to the front door with Sam and her at his heels. She looked around rapidly, but she couldn’t see anybody out of the ordinary. Dean slipped his card in the door to unlock it, not wasting a moment to fumble. The door popped open and they were in the house. Emily immediately stuck to the shadows, she clung to the wall and kept along the path to upstairs. She heard Monica leave her room and call out.

            “Wait. Guys!” she whisper shouted.

            Monica’s husband ambushed her brothers, catching them off guard. Peeking around the corner, she saw that Dean quickly took hold of his baseball bat and detained him.

            “GET THE BABY!” he shouted up to Monica.

            “No!” Emily shouted, turning to the stairs. “Don’t go in the nursery!” she raced up the stairs.

            She heard Sam racing after her; he had the Colt with him. What Emily did next was very strange. She pushed Monica against the wall as she ran by her, throwing the door open. She flung her arms out to her sides and screamed for Sam to get the baby. A dark, hooded figure was standing over Rosie’s cot, clearly surprised about the actions unfolding here. Monica tried pushing her aside, but the demon had those same plans. He flung them both against separate walls. He finally looked at Emily, his eyes were the yellow ones, not the red ones.

            “STOP!” she shouted at him.

            He retaliated by sliding Monica up the wall first. She started dripping blood from her stomach as she begged for the baby to be left alone.

            “Sam!” Emily shouted as it started happening to her as well. Walls weren’t nice.

            Sam aimed with the Colt and fired, but the demon vanished in instantaneous smoke.

            He’s found you… An unfamiliar voice softly said in her head.

            Monica fell first, Emily blocking her own fall with her forearms.

            “What?! Where did it go?!” Sam shouted.

            “MY BABY!” Monica screamed.

            “No!” Emily held her back. “Sam! Get Rosie!”

            Monica fought against her to retrieve Rosie, but Sam was able to pick her up before the cot suddenly caught fire. Dean raced by and took Rosie, instructing Sam to help Emily escort her out, and fast. As the room engulfed in flames, Emily helped Sam get Monica out of her house. The broke through the approaching doom by running through the front door, Monica’s husband waiting for her on the lawn. He was staggering around, clearly angry. The nursery window exploded outward, flames beginning to engulf the outside of the house. Dean gave Emily the baby, as Emily appeared the most gentle.

“You get away from my family!” the husband shouted.

“Charlie, no! They saved our lives…” Emily smiled tiredly and handed them

Rosie. “Thank you...so much…”

Emily nodded her head. “I’m sorry I pushed you...I acted irrationally. I hope

you two can forgive us. I’m sorry, sir, for my brother’s...behavior in there.”

                        “No. Please, it’s okay…” Monica smiled at Rosie, clearing away from the smoke and flames.

                        Emily heard Sam shout “Dean, it’s still in there!”

                        As she turned around, she witnessed Dean desperately try to hold Sam back, keep him from attempting to do something boldly stupid. Emily ran to him as well.

                        “Sam, no!” she helped retrain him. “The house is burning to the ground, it’s suicide!”

                        He turned to her, his face looked frightening. “I don’t care! Now let me go!”

                        “Yea, well I do!” Dean shouted right back in his face.

                        Same gave up his struggle to run back into the house. Letting him go, Emily kept a shocked expression on her face. The house continued to burn to the ground, and she felt as if the failure was her fault. She ran forward ahead of Monica, but didn’t it give Sam enough time to aim and fire? She was frustrated, they all were.

                        “Let’s go back to the motel.” she said, unexpressive.

                        They agreed with her. As they walked to the car, she glanced behind her to see a dark figure in the nursery window. Swallowing, she entered the already started Impala.

 

**Motel**

            Dean was pacing around the motel room, cell phone in his hand and only receiving a never ending dial tone. He was growing worriedly frustrated.

            “Dad isn’t answering. Pick up the phone, dammit…”

            Sam was hunched over on the bed, elbows on his knees, head down. Emily was adjacent to him on another bed. With sad eyes, she thought about apologizing. When they were in the nursery, she just thought more about saving the baby, not killing the demon. She felt like she fucked up. He finally rose his head and bitchfaced the wall.

            “There’s something wrong.” Dean hung up finally.

            Emily stood up. “Let me get some water… I’ll think of something.

            Eyeballing Sam, his tone changed. “Sam, did you hear me? Something’s happened!”

            Sam didn’t look at him. “If you would have let me back in there, I coulda ended all of this.”

            Taking a sip of water, Emily furrowed her brows. “Don’t you fucking dare, Sam.”

            “The only thing that would have ended is your life, Sam.” Dean put his hands on his hips.

            “You don’t know that.” he answered.

            “Please.” Emily sipped some more.

            “So, you’re just willing to sacrifice yourself, is that it?” Dean asked angrily.

            “Yeah.” Sam stood up. “You’re damn right I am.”

            “Sam, that isn’t a way to solve this. At all.”

            Looking sternly at her, he answered. “You did.”

            Turning pale, she resigned from the conversation. She turned away and drank her water. “That was….that was different…”

            “No, it wasn’t. It’s the same exact thing!” he stepped toward her. “You aren’t special because of what happened to you. This is the same thing! If you did it, well I guess it’s okay that I do too!” he shouted.

            “Hey! Not while I’m around, you hear me!?” Dean intervened.

            “I wanna kill it, Dean. For mom. For Jess!” he turned to Dean now.

            “I wanna waste it, Sam. I really do. But it ain’t worth dyin’ over.”

            “What?”

            “If getting yourself killed means winning, I never wanna find the damn thing.”

            “But…”

            “Sam, you said it yourself. They’re never coming back.”

            Sam snapped, grabbing Dean and shoving him against a wall. Emily dropped her glass on the floor and ran over.

            “Dean, don’t you say that, not you!” Sam shouted furiously.

            “Sam! Stop it!” Emily shouted and yanked at his arms.

            Sam swatted her away, but she tried again. “Sam, stop…!”

            Hearing the tears in her voice, he looked down and saw her crying.

            “Just stop… This isn’t like you. You can’t do that, Sam.” she wiped her face.

            “Sam…” Dean said quietly. “Look at us. It’s just us and dad. The four of us. It used to be just three...but with dad gone, it still is three. With all that’s happened, we just can’t hold it together. Have we ever had a stable mission? A stable chapter? I don’t think so. Sam, sometimes I’m scared I won’t be able to hold it together. Without you...Junior Mint….dad….”

            Looking at Emily, he looked shocked. “Oh my god, I’m sorry.”

            “Say any of that shit again and I’m gonna rip you a new asshole.” she smiled.

            Sam and Dean straightened up and relaxed. Emily picked up her phone and gave it to Dean.

            “Let’s call dad, guys.”

            Dean lit up. “You called him dad.”

            “Eh, shut up.”

            Taking her phone, now serious and lax as if nothing had just happened, he dialed John’s number, turning the phone to speaker.

            “Oooh, this is a new number.” Meg answered.

            “Hello, Meg.” Dean said.

            “You three messed up bad this time. Hi, Emily. Shame you couldn’t meet us today.”

            “Suck a foot, Meg.” she responded bitchily.

            “Where is he?” Dean asked, growling.

            “You’re never going to see your father again.”

            In that moment, time seemed to slow down for her. Emily looked around and she was in that white room, facing the door. There were flames coming out from under it. Ringo appeared next to her, looking extremely angry.

            “That door holds something that I don’t think you’re ready for. If you open that door, I can’t help you. It symbolizes you willingly walking into something you ARE NOT ready for.” she grew angrier, as if she already knew how her friend would answer.

            “I have to…”

            “DON’T OPEN THE DOOR, EMILY.”

            “Dad’s through there.” she walked forward.

            “JOHN WINCHESTER IS NOT YOUR FATHER. HE ISN’T WORTH THIS.”    

            “He is if my brothers care about him.” she faced the door, hand reaching for the knob.

            “I CAN’T SEAL IT AGAIN.” 

            Emily didn’t turn around, but Ringo balled up her fists and stomped forward.

            “STOP.”         

            Emily pulled open the door.


	9. Blood and Sulfur (Pt. 2/2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Winchesters pack up after learning about Meg's plan. Emily meets a close family friend, and she discovers a force that may have something to do with her mysterious abilities. The knots begin to untangle as she realizes her family ties, who she is, and what she may have to do as a Winchester child. However...The Demon has other plans for her and her family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not dead, I just always forget to post my shit to AO3. Hope you enjoy~!

“Hey? Junior Mint!” Dean was clapping his hands in front of her face.

“Huh? Yea?” she shook her head. The motel room was back.

“What do you mean, ‘huh’? Did you not hear Meg? They have dad!” Dean huffed.

“Hold on a sec, Dean.” he rose his hand to calm him down. “Em, did you see

something?”

“What, are you having visions now too?” Dean asked.

“Uh, no. Not exactly. It isn’t like Sam’s. I think it was just a thing...Ringo. Ringo has

something to do with my nightmares...telling me things…. What I just saw was a warning. Something for me to find out. I don’t know what kind of door I just opened, but I don’t think it’s a good one.”

Dean was half listening, half packing. He tucked the Colt into the back of his jeans and picked up his duffel bag.

“Dean, what are you doing?” Sam asked, dismissing Emily’s little speech.

“We gotta go. This thing knows we’re in Salvation, we gotta hit the road.” he explained, fear in his face.

“Dean’s right.” Emily got her shit together as well. “Those demons have dad and they know that we have the Colt. They’re gonna follow us.”

Sam clenched his teeth. “Good. Let it come.”

Emily turned to look at him. “What?”

“We’ve got three bullets left. Let it come.” he said, determined.

“Sam, we aren’t ready!” she retaliated.

“She’s right, tough guy. Three bullets isn’t enough, and we don’t know how many of them there are. We’re no good to anybody dead. We’re leaving, now!” Dean stormed out the door.

Before Emily left the room, she turned and looked at Sam, who looked crushed and angrily confused.

“Sam, I don’t mean to be against you, I never do, but dude, we need to think rationally here. Don’t even say I’m not good at doing that sir, because none of us are. It’s just, right now, we don’t need Bravado Sam. We need Brainiac Sam.” she nodded at him and ran out.

 

 

**Impala**

 

It clearly wasn’t safe for Dean to be driving so fast and so angry, especially at night. Sam hadn’t made a single peep since the start of the ride, and Emily was constantly looking around the car, in case she saw any sign of close pursuit of any demons. She didn’t smell that Hellish smell, so they must have been safe.

                        “Dean I’m telling you, we could have taken them.” Sam breathed, irritated.

                        “What we need is a plan.” Dean ignored that statement.

                        “Well, they wouldn’t kill him. Dad’s still alive.” Emily stated.

                        “They’re probably looking to trade him for the gun.” Dean continued her thought.

                        Sam shook his head, as if defeated.

                        Dean looked over. “What?”

                        “Dean, if that were true, why didn’t Meg mention a trade?” Sam asked, as if trying to be logical.

                        “Because Meg’s a bitch, Sam.” Emily answered, clearly annoyed.

                        Sam started upsetting himself. “Dad might be…”

                        “Don’t!” Dean shouted.

                        “Look, I don’t want to believe it any more than you do, but if he is, he would want us to keep going. He would want us to finish the job.”

                        “Screw the job, Sam!” Dean shouted back.

                        Almost offended, Sam continued. “He would want us to use the Colt! We can still finish the job!”

                        “Would you quit talking about him like he’s dead already?!” Dean shouted back, shutting him up.

                        Emily shook her head. “Sam, if I had a nickel for every time you’ve given up on somebody, I’d be one rich bitch.”

                        Nobody said anything about that, they just all took a moment to think.

                        “How do we find him, Dean?” Sam asked.

                        “Uh...maybe start at Lincoln, the warehouse where they asked him to go? We might pick up a trail.”  Dean proposed.

                        “They’re not gonna create a trail unless they’re noobs. They have a critical exchange on the line, so they’re not going to leave a trail this far in.” Emily shot down the idea.

                        “Agh, you’re right.” Dean admitted.

                        “So now what?” Sam asked.

                        “We need help, that’s what.” Dean answered. He looked in the rearview mirror. “I have a feeling you’ll like where we’re going, Junior Mint.”

           

**Singer’s Auto Parts, Morning**

 

The roads had been bumpy for a long time, they were in the middle of absolute nowhere. Eventually, they stumbled on a small town, where there were children running along the sidewalk and playing in sprinklers. Emily looked at the teenagers she saw with envy.

            “So where are we going, guys?” she asked.

            “We’re gonna see an old friend. I really think you’ll like him.” Dean answered, eyes on the road.

Looking out the window a little longer, she finally decided to resign to looking at her phone instead. She opened the messages she had sent to Ringo. They were all delivered, but none of them were returned. She hadn’t heard from Ringo herself since the vampire case. In her head, she had no actual idea if that was real Ringo or just...dream Ringo. If it were the latter of the two, she must be going nuts. The Impala turned onto a dirt path that was surrounded with hubcaps and old car parts. As the Impala found a place to park, she saw a large dog chained to a pole, it was resting on the hood of a tow truck. Sam and Dean left the car as if they owned the place.

            “All right, we’re here.” Dean said.

            Emily got out, somewhat shyly. When it came to beating shit up, she didn’t mind new places. But if it came to socializing with new people in their homes, she decided it was best to just not. When she closed the door, she walked behind her brothers, hoping that their height will just mask her presence. When getting to the door, Dean knocked casually. They really must have meant it when they said friend. There was a grumbling behind the door, a sound of a lock unlatching, and finally the twist of the doorknob. The man standing there on the other side must have been the friend the boys were talking about.

            “Oh, you boys.” he greeted them with a firm handshake.

            “Hey, Bobby.” Sam half smiled.

            “Good to see you Bobby.” Dean said, more of a smile.

            Emily tried to abort and stood behind Sam.

            “What brings you here?” Bobby asked to mostly Dean.

            “Dad’s in trouble.” Sam answered.

            The dog barked loudly in Emily’s general direction, making Emily jump backward, scream, and trip over her own feet, eventually making her fall on a bunch of hub caps. Dean and Sam just closed their eyes in somewhat embarrassment, making Bobby push the two aside and look at her.

            “And who in hell is this?” Bobby asked, looking at them one at a time.

            “That’s Emily.” Sam scratched the back of his head.

            They just looked at her while she got up, totally red-faced, brushing herself off.

            “I thought it was asleep…” she muttered.

            “We’ll explain inside.” Dean said, guiding her inside.

            “Yea, that would help me.” Bobby closed the door after Sam got in.

            Emily looked around at the massive collection of books and collections of tomes, maps, and the libraries of supernatural dictionaries and guidebooks. Her jaw dropped and her eyes lit up.

            When Bobby cleared his throat, she stuck her hand out to shake his.

            “I’m Emily. Sorry about all that out there. I’m their sister.” she smiled.

            “Their what?!” Bobby exclaimed, looking to the brothers for answers.

            “We don’t know how, but it adds up. DNA, fingerprints, she’s a Winchester.” Sam explained. “We don’t know how she’s alive, but we have a more pressing matter here.”

            “The demon’s got dad.” Dean said.

            Emily lowered her hand, considering Bobby probably wasn’t going to shake it, and watched as he looked through his drawers and got out a small flask. He picks up another off a desk and hands it to her.

            “I AM SEVENTEEN AND I AM UNDER THE LEGAL DRINKING AGE.” she stated in a clearly loud voice.

            Bobby looked at her strangely. “This is Holy Water you deranged fruit loop.” he took a swig of his own. “This is whiskey.”

            Sam and Dean snickered, they were receiving second-party embarrassment, and they were making the best of it.

            “Oh.” she took a swig of the water and handed the flask back to him.

            Dean and Sam also took a swig, being followed by sips of the whiskey. While they did so, Bobby got a collection of books off of his shelf and plopped them down on the desk next to the window.

            “Bobby, thanks. I didn’t know if we should’ve come.” Dean shook his head.

            “Nonsense, your daddy’s in trouble.”

            “Well, the last time you saw him, you threatened to shoot him with your buckshot. Cocked the gun and everything.” Dean smiled.

“What can I say, John has that effect on people.” Bobby shrugged innocently.

Emily let out a laugh and he looked her direction. “I’m gonna assume he didn’t like you very much.”

“Nah. Asshole tried to kill me, I think he’s sexist.” she winked. She reached for a book. “May I?”

“Of course.” Bobby gave her the go-ahead.

“This book…” Sam interrupted, “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“The Key of Soloman? That’s the real deal.” Bobby tapped on the pages. “But it comes in two volumes. Your sister’s got the Lesser Key in her hands right now.”

It was true, and she was flipping through the pages as if she had a pre-determined destination. Bobby described the process of the circles, circles to leave the demons trapped inside. They couldn’t leave. While they were talking, Emily’s phone vibrated. She brightened the screen to see it be from Ringo.

            “If you can, turn to the next three chapters and go to the sixth page. Hurry it up.”

            “What?” she whispered to herself.

            “This is some serious crap you folks have stepped into, do you understand that?” Bobby warned.

            Emily lowered her phone and nodded. Bobby rose an eyebrow, but continued talking.

            “The average amount of possessions I hear about in a year is four. But this year? Twenty-seven. There’s more demons walking among us and they aren’t afraid.” he continued.

            Emily put her phone back in her pocket and flipped through the pages of the book, beginning to hear barking outside the window.

            “Rumsfeld?” Bobby looked to the window.

            Emily was greeted with the picture of a nude man with a crown, riding a dragon-like beast with a serpent’s tail.

            The barking stopped. “Something’s wrong.” Bobby anticipated.

            Sam looked to her and she looked up at him.

            Astaroth?

            With a mighty splintering crackle, the door was kicked in, making Emily jump backward and drop the book. She slipped Sam a look, but he wasn’t paying attention to her anymore. Meg sauntered through the doorframe with a disgustingly smug look on her face. Dean went for the holy water right away.

            “No more crap, okay?” Meg’s words were spit like fire.

            Dean grabbed the holy water and crept towards her, like an idiot. She noticed him immediately and flung him into a bookshelf, seeming to knock him out cold.

            “Dean!” Emily shouted, making a beeline for him.

            Meg made her attention toward Bobby, who was behind Sam.

            “I want the Colt, Sam. The real Colt. Right now.” Meg was smiling devilishly.

            “We don’t have it, we buried it.” Sam snapped back quickly.

            Idiot! Emily thought to herself. Dean slowly sat up and moved her hands away from him, as she was touching his shoulders. He put his finger in front of his mouth to keep her quiet and slowly stood, trying not to get Meg’s attention.

            “I said no more crap, Sam!” Meg shouted at him while they backed into the other room slowly.

            “And I said we don’t have it.” Sam repeated.

            “Didn’t I say “no more crap”? I swear – after everything I heard about you Winchesters, I got to tell you, I’m a little underwhelmed. First Johnny tries to pawn off a fake gun, and then he leaves the real gun with you two chuckleheads. Lackluster, men. I mean, did you really think I wouldn’t find you?” Meg crossed her arms and stopped in the center of the room.

            Dean crossed his own arms behind her. Emily following at his heels.

            “Actually, we were planning on it.” he smiled.

            Looking up, Meg found she was surrounded by a protective circle. There was no getting out now.

            “Gotcha.” Emily smirked.

            Dean grabbed the desk chair and brought it into the middle of the circle. Emily searched the room for some rope, while Sam and Bobby made themselves a safe distance away from the circle.

            “I hate you so much.” Meg hissed at Emily as she forcibly was sat down.

            “The feeling is mutual.” she looked at her dead in the eyes. She made the rope extra tight.

            Bobby was looking through the kitchen for salt while the other three were examining the situation. They have Meg wrapped up like a package, all that was left was to get answers. However, there were too many questions to be asked. Emily returned to the other room to retrieve her book, as she wasn’t quite finished reading.

            “Whatcha got there?” Dean asked.

            “Some answers to my questions, but I’m not satisfied. Get what we need out of her so we can go.” Emily looked too determined.

            “Alright, I salted the windows and doors. If any more demons are here, they aren’t gettin’ in.” Bobby explained.

            Nodding, Dean entered the circle first. “Where’s our dad, Meg?”

            “You didn’t ask very nice.” she smiled.

            “Where’s our father, bitch?” he tried again.

            “Yikes, you kiss your mother with that mouth? Oh wait. You don’t.”

            Emily felt bad about not being so affected to that comment while the others did. Dean lunged at Meg and pressed her hands into the arms of the chair.

“Do you think this is a fucking game?! Where is he?! What did you do to him?!” he screamed.

“He died screaming. I killed him myself.”

Boring a hole through her head with hate, he smacked her hard across the face.

“Dean.” Emily tried intervening.

“That’s kind of a turn on...you hitting a girl.” Meg smiled playfully.

“You masochistic fuck…” Emily whispered to herself. “Dean.” she tried again.

“You aren’t a girl.” Dean growled.

This time, Bobby got his attention. “Dean.”

Dean walked out of the circle and over to the group. “She’s lying, he isn’t dead.”

“You’re getting too worked up, she’s just trying to rile you up. Don’t feed into it. Not only is it pissing me off, but it’s stupid.” Emily looked at him.

“And Dean, you gotta be careful with her.” Bobby warned.

“Why?” Dean asked.

“Because she’s really a girl, that’s why.” Bobby answered.

“She’s possessed, Dean.” Emily looked past him and at Meg.

“Wait, are you telling me there’s actually a sweet, innocent girl trapped in there somewhere?” he asked.

Both Emily and Dean nodded.

“But you two didn’t listen to me when I first met her. I’ll say ‘I told you so’ later.” Emily said.

“So what do we do?” Sam asked.

“We exorcise her.” She replied.

Sam eyeballed a bible on the bookshelf and pulled it out. He looked at Dean with resolution, Dean returned the look with a nod. Paging through, Sam found an exorcism ritual to use.

“Aw, you gonna read me a story?” Meg smiled.

“Yea, it’s called ‘The Brave Little Toaster Goes to Hell’” Emily answered.

“Hit it Sam.” Dean gestured to Sam.

Sam began reading in Latin, as Meg looked up at Dean from the chair in mild disbelief.

“An exorcism? Really?” Meg teased.

“Oh yea baby, we’re going for it. Head spinning, projectile vomiting, the whole nine yards.” Dean said.

As Sam continued reading, Meg looked more and more in pain. Arms crossed over her chest, Emily didn’t feel remorse. Also knowing what was about to happen, she kept quiet.

“I’m gonna kill you.” Meg gurgled in pain. “I’m gonna rip the bones from your body.”

“No, you’re gonna burn in Hell. Unless you tell us where our dad is.” receiving no response, he waves his hand to Sam. “Fine, at least you’ll get a nice tan.”

Meg’s body began to violently shake in pain as she tried to endure the ritual, but she no longer could when she let out a large, pained gasp.

“He begged for his life with tears in his eyes. He begged to see his sons one last time. That’s when I slit his throat.” Meg smiled twistedly.

“For your sake, I hope you’re lying.” Dean answered. “Cause if it’s true, I swear to God, I will march into Hell myself and slaughter every last one of you sons of bitches!”

“She IS lying, Dean.” Emily interrupted. “Dad is too proud to beg for his life.” she walked toward Meg. “So I don’t believe it.”

“Where is he?” Dean asked again.

“You just won’t take ‘dead’ as an answer, will you?” Meg replied.

“Where is he?!” Dean shouted.

“Dead!”

Dean, beginning to get upset and angry, stands up and stomps around the circle. Emily and Sam looked at one another, whom had stopped reading, then they both looked to Dean. Dean, with wild eyes, looked at them each.

“What? What are you looking at? Keep reading, dammit!”

Sam began reading again, and finally Meg let out a defeated, pained scream.

“HE ISN’T DEAD, BUT HE WILL BE!”

Sam stopped, and Dean, with wide eyes, looked down at her.

“How do we know you’re telling the truth?” Dean asked.

“You don’t.”

“Sam!” he looked to finish the ritual.

“A building! A building in Jefferson City!” she shouted.

“Where? How about an address?” Dean questioned.

“I don’t know!” she shouted again.

“Where’s the demon we’re looking for?” Sam asked.

“I don’t know.” Meg answered, breathing heavily.

“Finish it.” Dean ordered.

At this, Emily became more coherent. As Meg and Dean argued about their promise to not kill her, Bobby came up behind her and looked at her.

“Kid, you ain’t stupid. You need to do something, or else I will. We both know what’s about to happen.” he patted her back.

“Guys.” she interrupted the trilogy of fighting.

“You’re gonna kill her.” Bobby finished.

“What?” Dean asked.

“That girl’s body is broken. You said this girl fell from a building. I’m sure one of us here understands that the only thing keeping her alive is that demon inside of her. If you exorcise her, she’ll die.” he explained, Emily staying silent.

“Listen to me, all of you, we are not leaving her like that.” Dean retaliated.

“She is a human being.” Bobby argued.

Emily looked at Meg. Feeling remorse, she looked at Sam and nodded painfully. Bobby sighed and stepped back.

“Finish it.” She ordered. “But let me ask a question first.” she stepped in front of Meg.

“Emily?” Dean asked.

After a brief silence, she spoke.

 “Who is Astaroth?” she asked, bluntly.

Meg looked at her with a smile. “He missed you when your daddy walked in that warehouse alone. He remembers you...he said you’ve grown up so much since that other daddy of yours met him and you in the woods.”

Emily clenched the fist that wasn’t still holding the book, bookmarked to the page she needed.

“What does he want from me?” she tried asking again.

“Oh, sweetie…” Meg’s eyes actually reflected care, “he just wants you. Isn’t that right Dean?” Meg looked around Emily and to Dean.

Turning with wide eyes, Emily looked at Dean. “What?”

“Sweetie, you could have just asked your brother. He knows what he wants.”

“Emily don’t listen to her, she’s lying to you.” Dean stepped forward with his hands out.

“You know it too. Daddy wanted alone time with big brother.”

Hands shaking, she looked at Meg again. “Where is he?”

Meg, lifted her head, letting Emily know that he, was in fact, inside her own head. “All the time.”

Sam began reading again, startling Emily. “What?!” Dean grabbed her and pulled her out of the circle. “No!”

Meg’s suffering concluded with black smoke erupting out of her mouth, the smoke collecting all around the ceiling of the circle until it finally faded away. Her head swung down, blood beginning to drip from her mouth. Dean lightened his grip on his sister.

“Meg?” she whispered.

She lifted her head slowly.

“Bobby, call 911! And get water! And blankets!” Dean shouted.

Bobby nodded and disappeared into the next room. Sam was already in the process of untying Meg.

“Thank you…” Meg whispered.

Sam was trying to lift her, so Dean helped. Emily moved some books and chairs so she could lie down comfortably.

“A year.” she strained.

“What?” Dean asked.

“It’s been a year.” she repeated.

“Ssh..just take it easy.” Sam consoled her.

“I was awake for some of it...I couldn’t move my own body. The things I did….it was a nightmare.” she recalled.

“Was it telling the truth about our dad?” Dean asked.

“She told...the truth...the whole time… He’s alive.” she nodded slowly. “Just know that...they want you...to come looking for him…”

“As long as dad’s alive, nothing else matters.” Dean nodded.

Bobby finally returned with a blanket and a glass of water. Emily and Sam covered her up while Dean lifted Meg’s head up to drink.

“Where’s the demon we’re looking for?” Sam asked.

“Not there. Other ones. Awful ones.” she spoke slowly.

“Where are they keeping our dad?” Dean asked.

“By the river. Sunrise.” Meg looked at Emily.

“Where is that? Sunrise. What does that mean?” Dean asked.

Meg didn’t answer, but continued to look at Emily.

“You….you’ll be safe….”

Just like that, Meg was lifeless. Emily closed Meg’s eyes and held back her own tears. She stood up and looked at the book she needed.

“Bobby, may I take this?” she asked passively.

“Of course darlin’. But you better hurry up and beat it, before the paramedics show up.” he warned them all.

“What are you gonna tell them?” Dean asked, finally standing.

“You think you guys invented lying to the cops? I’ll figure somethin’ out.” Bobby shrugged.

“Thanks Bobby...for everything.” Dean nodded.

As they left, Emily followed behind them. Bobby stopped her quickly.

“Listen. I don’t know what all of that you asked was, or what Dean did, but you gotta listen to me when I say that he only ever does the right thing. And I know you ain’t lying either, about being one of them. Because you’ve got John’s bravado and their mother’s intellect. Whatever it is you’re involved in, I know they only want to help you. Just be careful out there.”

Taking in his words, she nodded with a half-smile. “Thanks, Bobby.”

Walking out to the Impala, despite what Bobby had just told her, she kept her gaze steady with Dean’s with a cold stare. In his eyes, she read guilt. In hers, he only saw anger and misery. And as a brother, how dare he resurface that feeling.

 

**Six Years Ago**

Marcus carefully trekked the forest, avoiding tree branches and keeping the crackles of leaves beneath his feet to a minimum. He had his gun out, the bullets had been blessed in holy water before he loaded them.

“I’m gonna get this son of a bitch…” he whispered under his bandana, which he had stretched over his mouth to mask his breathing.

He told his son to stay at home. Steven and Shawn would keep him busy with Teen Titans on TV, probably get their gameboys out to do some trading or something. All that he cared about right now was cutting off this trail. He had followed the trail for such a long time, it was finally time to free the prey.

“You’re a demon, aren’t you?” a little voice asked in the distance.

“It’s interesting how you know such big things.” a male voice answered.

“Please, I’m twelve. I’m turning thirteen in four months.” she replied.

Marcus crept up behind a tree and peered around the trunk. The girl was facing his direction, but the man had his back to him. Marcus opened his flask of holy water and prepared to jump out.

“Marcus, I believe we both know the element of surprise is futile. Come on out now.” Marcus’s eyes widened when he heard the man’s voice.

Irritated, he stepped out from behind the tree, first tucking his gun into his back pocket. What he saw made his heart skip a beat. She had a knife being held up to her throat, the man smiling in triumphant glory.

“I knew you were coming tonight. You always do.” he chuckled.

Marcus looked at the girl. She was sweating, but she was calm.

“We have some things to clear up here.” he started “But first, put your gun away.”

Groaning in defeat, Marcus threw his gun into the bushes.

“This girl is special, Marcus. Do you know how special?” he teased.

“No.” Marcus answered.

“Almost as important as her brother. But she isn’t quite THAT loved.”

She began to shiver, but she also looked straight at Marcus.

“I’m going to give you two presents, Marcus.” his eyes changed from black to a bloody, piercing red. “Here’s present number one.” he snapped his fingers.

In an instant, Marcus felt that his heart was on fire. Screaming in agony, he fell onto the ground as he clawed at his chest, hoping for the pain to stop. Almost foaming at the mouth, he looked up in a daze to see a struggle between the girl and the demon.

Am I about to die for some girl? Some case I shouldn’t be working? I don’t even know her. She doesn’t even know me. My heart feels like burning nails are being twisted into it...

“STOP IT! HE DIDN’T HURT YOU, LEAVE HIM ALONE!” her eyes flashed a significant red color for a moment. She was almost in tears.

“You want me to stop? Dear, the damage has already been done. But fine. I will stop.”

He snapped his fingers again and the pain slowly subsided. Tears running down his face from the agony and slowly sat up, struggling to get onto his knees.

“You’re so unlucky to have found me in August.” was all he chuckled in response.

The girl broke away from him and ran to Marcus’s aid. This girl, who had never met him, cared so much.

“You’re cursed now, Marcus.” the man told him. “When she realizes who she really is, there will be no need for you anymore. You will die.” he smiled.

“What...what do you mean?” Marcus asked.

“She is a Winchester. I will be back for her when she’s ready, so don’t bother trying to hide her.” the man started to walk away further into the woods. “I know you’ll be a good father, Marcus. Raise her well. Her soul is too great for disappointment.”

“Wait!” Marcus strained to shout to him.

“Yes?” The man stopped.

“Who are you?” he asked.

“You can call me The Duke.” the man looked back, eyes glinting in the darkness.

“You son of a bitch.” Marcus stood up painfully.

With a horrifying grin on his face, The Duke vanished into the darkness.

 

**Jefferson, Missouri, Present Day**

            Parked by the train tracks, the Impala was shining in the sun, two men and a girl either leaned up against it or getting weapons out the trunk. Emily had her arms crossed while she leaned against the hood of the fabulous trend-setter. Dean and her haven’t spoken a word since the departure from Bobby’s, which wasn’t exactly surprising. Sam was reading the Key of Soloman, the higher edition than the volume his sister had been reading. He was examining the symbols on that page with a focused face.

            “Emily, is this what was entrapping Meg?” he called her over.

            She strided over to him, glanced at the page, and nodded.

            “You’ve been quiet.” Sam looked at her.

            “I have nothing to say right now.” she didn’t look back at him, just out past the train tracks.

            With book in hand, Sam picked out a piece of chalk from the glovebox and began drawing the symbol on the trunk of the car.

            “Dude, what are you drawing on my car?!” Dean shouted angrily.

            “It’s a Devil’s Trap. Demons can’t escape it or pass through it.” Sam explained.

            “So?”

            “It basically turns the trunk into a lock box.”

            “So?”

            “SO we can keep the Colt stashed in the trunk while we go get dad.”

            “No way, we’re bringing the Colt with us.” Dean demanded brashly.

            Emily chimed in. “Dean, we have three bullets left. We can’t just use them on any demon. I thought there was A demon we were all looking for?”

            “No, we need to save dad, Emily, and we need all the help we can get.” Dean looked at her.

            “Dean, do you know how pissed dad would be if we used all of the bullets?” Sam asked, “He wouldn’t want us to bring the gun.”

            “I don’t care what dad wants, okay? Since when do either of you care about what dad wants, huh?” Dean was getting defensive.

            “We want to kill this demon. You used to want that too. Hell, you came and got me at school!” Sam got mad when Dean scoffed. “You roped me back into this, now I’m just trying to finish it.”

            “Well you and dad are more alike than I thought. You two just can’t wait to sacrifice yourselves for this thing. But you know what? I’m gonna be the one that has to bury you. You’re selfish, you know that? You don’t care about anything but revenge.” Dean challenged.

            “Don’t talk to anyone about being selfish, Dean.” Emily chimed in again. “All you care about is this case and your dad. You didn’t bother to tell me some important information that I’ve been looking for a little while now, and you know what you always say to me? ‘We gotta go find dad.’ you say, ‘don’t worry Junior Mint, we just gotta find dad and it’ll all be okay’. I’m on board with finding him, but once we get him to safety, you owe me some fucking answers, no more being selfish. I’m giving my all for this cause when you didn’t give shit for mine. Now put the fucking Colt in the trunk or so help me God I will hit the road right now.”

            Gulping, Dean took the Colt out, showed it to the each of them, and stashed it in the trunk. There were no more complaints.

            The trio made their way down the river and into the outer stretch of town, Dean making them all crouch in cover. With a smirk, he slapped his knee.

            “I think I know what Meg meant by Sunrise.” he said pointing forward.

            A sign read “Sunrise Apartments”, a seven story building with numerous fire escapes scaling both sides of the building, and most likely the back as well.

            “That’s pretty smart.” Emily squinted while trying to think.

            “They can possess anybody and make any of those people attack us.” Sam scratched his chin.

            “We can’t kill them, it’s a building full of human shields.” Dean said quietly.

            “They also probably know exactly what we look like.” Sam sighed.

            “This sucks out loud.” Emily rubbed her temples.

            “How are we going to get in?” Sam asked.

            After a minute of silence, Dean nodded. “Pull the fire alarm, get all of the civilians out.”

            “Okay, and the city responds in what, seven minutes?”

            “Exactly.” Dean replied.

            Cracking his knuckles, Sam stood up and assumed his position across the street. Nonchalantly, he made his way across the street and into the building. Emily and Dean snuck around the side of the building to distract the firemen when they came by.

            “What did Meg mean when she said you’ll be safe?” Dean asked.

            “When were you going to tell me what Marcus told you?” she retaliated.

            “Oh come on, not now…” he sighed.

            “From what I can tell, it probably means that the demons won’t hurt me.”

            “Why do you say that?”

            “The only time a demon has attacked me was if they were a rogue demon needing to be cleaned up. When Meg attacked us in the warehouse, she didn’t go to great lengths to hurt me. I’m taking the best guess to say they don’t want me hurt, or at least killed.” she explained.

            Dean thought about it. When Meg attacked them, all she did was threaten to hurt her. Her targets were always the brothers and dad, and she seemed upset that Emily was there. Was it out of care in some twisted way? Or was it something else?

            When the fire alarm went off, Dean and Emily prepared to run out when Sam came jogging around the corner, turning his back every few seconds.

            “When the fire crews get here, we’ll steal the fire gear, go upstairs, and sniff out dad.” Sam explained.

            The other two siblings nodded in agreement and waited. When the fire sirens sounded as if they were at the building, Sam and Emily did a whole other route around the building while Dean went to go blend in with the rest of the crowd.

            “What’s going on, is it a fire?” Dean asked, concerned.

            The fireman looked at him. “We’re trying to figure that out right now, you have to stay back.”

            “Well I have a Yorkie upstairs and he pees when he’s nervous.” Dean laughed slightly.

            While Dean talked with the firemen, Emily remained on watch while Sam picked the clothing lock on the side of the firetruck. She could smell them, but she couldn’t pin-point who was who. She just didn’t want to risk being seen this early in the plan. Sam gave Dean the signal and he rushed back to them to commence with wearing the suits. Emily would remain out of costume so they could use her to sniff out the room John was in. The brothers cleared the way while she pretended to be calling out for her parents, which was ironic in more ways than one. Successfully, they got into the building without a passerby interrupting the plan. Emily then stood between them as she led them up several flights of stairs as she used her scooby senses to try to find their dad. For backup measure, Dean also equipped his EMF detector. They reached a room and Emily had to almost gag when the EMF began beeping excitedly.

            “When we open that door, you need to be extra careful.” Dean warned.

            “Got it.” she cracked her neck. “Yuck, that’s strong…”

            Dean knocked on the door. They waited patiently until they heard the doorknob start to twist.

            “This is the fire department, you need to evacuate.” Dean said in an official voice as the door opened.

            Emily kicked the door in, causing a woman to fly backwards, creating a path for the boys to run past her and commence the game plan. She walked in, fists raised, and made eye-contact with the woman.

            “Red!” she shouted as if to nobody.

            “What?” Emily whispered to herself.

“The salt!” Dean shouted.

Sam shoved the woman into the closet with the man that Dean had just shoved in and

Emily grabbed salt from the duffel bag Dean had yanked out for her. She created a line of salt at the doorframe to the closet. They weren’t getting out now. Ditching the fireman gear, the brothers got themselves together and opened the bedroom door. John was tied to the bed.

            “Yikes.” Emily said to herself, shielding her eyes. “Too kinky for me.”

            Sam smacked her shoulder and Dean went to listen over his mouth.

            “He’s breathing! He’s alive!” Dean sounded so relieved. “Dad? Dad, wake up!”

            As Dean went to cut the restraints, Sam stopped him.

            “Dean, he could be possessed for all we know.”

            “What?! That’s crazy!” Dean shouted.

            “Dean, we need to be sure.” Emily looked him in the eyes. “I’ve seen too much demon shit fuck up my family. We need. To make. Sure.”

            Sam splashed holy water onto John, no smoke or burning flesh, but almost immediately, he woke up.

            “Sam...why you splashing water on me…?” he croaked.

            “Dad, are you okay?” Dean asked, cutting him free.

            “They’ve been drugging me…. Where’s the Colt?”

            “Don’t worry dad, it’s safe.” Sam reassured.

            “We gotta get out of here.” Emily wasted no time in opening a window.

            “You’re crazy, we can’t let him go out the window!” Dean shouted, John being supported on his shoulder.

            As he said that, the front door burst open. Giving them a look with raised eyebrows, Dean sighed in frustration as Sam kept the door shut.

            “Sam, I’ll get the door, you get him out!” Emily pushed on the door to keep the demons from coming in.

            As they stepped onto the fire escape, an axe came through the door and she screamed.

            “HERE’S JOHNNY!” she screamed and leapt back from the door.

            She followed the rest of her family out the window as the rest of the door was being beaten down. She laid a line of salt on the window sill.

            “Come on, just down a little more.” she heard Dean say.

            They helped John down the escape ladder and onto the street. Leading the way, Sam was in the front. Emily smelled something swiftly approaching.

            “SAM!” she shouted.

            He turned as the force ran into him and tackled him to the ground. Emily ran forward to his aid but as soon as she started, she stopped. Dean continued to run past her and shouted at the man.

            “DEAN, NO!” she shouted as she saw the man turn his head.

            “I found you.”

She remembered the face, but it was too late. Dean had kicked him in the head, leaving no effect. He was then thrown into a parked car and his force shattered the windshield. The demon man went back to beating up Sam. Her limbs then began to move on their own, as if she had done something similar to this before. She ran forward, screaming, and tackled the man off of Sam. They both rolled in the street, struggling and scratching and punching. Emily stopped rolling after the man, who had already gotten up. The eyes had been flashing red this entire time. It was the red-eyed demon. He winked.

            “Nice try.” he smirked.

            The eyes seemed to wash away the red and fade to black. As Emily was trying to get up, she heard a gunshot. The demon looked down at his chest to see a bullet hole. The same electricity went through him as the life was being taken from him as the vampire back then, when she first saw the gun in use. The demon fell to the ground, both he and his vessel lying lifeless. Without hesitation, she ran to Sam’s aid while Dean went for John.

            “Red eyes… He had red eyes… Is he dead?” Sam asked, standing up.

            “No. He isn’t dead.” she replied, running with Sam as a support with Dean following at their heels.

**Cabin, Two Hours Later**

            Night had fallen and John was tucked into bed. Dean had raced into this abandoned cabin that they had found in the middle of country nowhere. Emily and Sam were in charge of salting up the windows and doorways to prevent any other demons from getting in. She was busy analyzing Sam’s wounds when Dean walked in from the bedroom.

            “How is he?” Sam asked, face being treated.

            “He just needs a little rest. What about you?” Dean asked.

            “He’s just lucky I took an Anatomy class when I went to school.” she answered for him.

            “I’ll live.” Sam shortened his explanation. “Anyway, do you think we were followed here?”

            “I don’t think so. Emily, what does the sniffer think?”

            “Honestly, the stench won’t leave my nose. I think I just need a good shower to get the rank off of me.” she answered, bunching up her nose.

            “You know, guys…” Sam started. “You saved my life back there.”

            Emily’s expression hardened. “No problem.”

            “Guess you’re glad I brought the gun, huh?” he smiled cockily.

            “Come on man, I’m trying to thank you here.”

            “You’re welcome.”

            Sam looked at Emily, who was cleaning her hands of the gauze and band aids. “But Emily...he had red eyes. Did you know him?”

            She flashed an unforgiving glance at Dean before she answered the question. “I guess I can answer yes, but at the same time, no.”

            “What does that mean?” Sam asked.

            Ignoring the conversation, Dean brought another topic up. “But there’s something that I get an eerie feeling from…”

            “What is it?” Sam asked.

            “Killing that guy, killing Meg...I didn’t hesitate. When it comes to you guys, I’ll kill for anything. It scares me sometimes.”

            “It shouldn’t. You did good.” A voice interrupted.

            All eyes turned to the voice, which belonged to John. The brothers’ eyes widened and Emily let out a sigh. It wasn’t annoyed, but it wasn’t relieved either.

            “You’re not mad?” Dean asked.

            “For what?” John asked nonchalantly.

            “Using a bullet…”

            “Mad? I’m proud of you. You know, Sam and I, we get pretty obsessed. You keep this family grounded. You watch out for this family.” John smiled.

            “Thanks.” Dean passed a quick, appreciative smile.

            John looked to Emily next. “And we can’t forget you, now can we? You busted your butt to get us out of there safely. If I would have known better, you are the exact copy of your big brothers. Good job.” he extended his arms out. “Give your old man a hug.”

            This struck Emily as odd. She looked at him as if he had four heads, but didn’t want to make it too obvious that she was concerned. She made quick eye contact with Dean, Sam seeming to be oblivious to her suspicions. Either John was still drugged, or something was very wrong. Suddenly, the lights began to flicker aggressively, and outside, the wind began to pick up. John looked frightened.

            “It found us, it’s here.” John looked out the window.

            “The demon?” Sam asked.

            “Sam, put lines of salt everywhere. A line at every window and every door.” John instructed.

            Emily walked over to Dean’s side. “We already did that…” she said slowly, making eye contact the whole time.

            “Well, check them!” John ordered.

            Sam left the room in a hurry, leaving the trio there alone. Emily tugged at Dean’s shirt, then made intense eye contact when he looked down.

            _John would never ask me to hug him_. she thought.

            John, not paying attention, said “Dean, do you have the gun?”

            “Yea.” Dean answered cautiously, looking up.

            “Give it to me.” John stuck his hand out.

            While Dean slid the gun out of his jeans, Emily answered. “Sam tried shooting the demon in Salvation, it just disappeared.”

            “This is me, I won’t miss.” John answered, more angrily. “The gun, hurry.”

            Dean looked at his sister and hesitated. They both had the same suspicion. As John urgently looked towards them, they backed up a few steps.

            “He’d be furious.” Dean muttered, eyeing the gun the whole time.

            “What?” John asked.

            “That I wasted a bullet. He wouldn’t be proud of me, he’d tear me a new one.” Dean said.

            “He’d rather shoot me than hug me.” Emily whispered.

            Dean raised the gun and cocked it. “You’re not our dad.”

            John tried taking a step forward. “Guys, it’s me.”

            “I know my dad better than anyone.” Dean clenched his teeth.

            “What the HELL’S gotten into you?” John asked.

            “I could ask you the same question.” Dean continued to walk backward, slowly.

            Sam entered the room again, only shocked to see the scenario unfolding before him.

            “Dean, Emily, what the hell is going on?!”

            “Your brother’s lost it and Emily’s gone bananas.” John looked at Sam.

            “Sam, he’s possessed! He’s been possessed since we rescued him.” Emily explained.

            That would explain the same scent lingering from earlier.

            “Sammy, don’t listen to them.” John pleaded.

            “How do you know?” he asked them both.

            They both answered ‘he’s different’ in very different tones. Emily’s was a solid tone while Dean was tearful and frustrated.

            “Sam, you know we don’t have time for this. If we want to kill this demon, you’ve gotta trust me.” John looked Dean dead in the eyes.

            “If we don’t have time, us arguing with our thumbs up our asses, why hasn’t the demon attacked us then?” Emily pointed out.

            Sam nodded, looking again at his father, but moved to the sides of his siblings.

            John looked at them. “If you’re so sure, then go ahead, kill me.” he looked down, eyes closing.

            Emily almost took hold of the gun, Dean not being able to pull the trigger. As she reached for it, John looked up again with yellow eyes.

            “I thought so.”

            All three of the siblings were thrown against separate walls, Emily shouting as she was the only one thrown into an object in the process, which was a standing lamp. She was also the one who struggled the most when trying to break free of such a demonic hold. Sam and Dean wriggled against the wall, all of them with clenched teeth and tensed muscles. John walked to the center of the room, where the Colt had been thrown out of Dean’s hands at the impact. Picking it up, he glared at it.

            “What a pain in the ass this thing’s been.” he scowled.

            “It’s you, isn’t it?” Sam struggled. “We’ve been looking for you a long time.”

            John smiled. “Well...you found me.”

            “ But the holy water--” Emily tried to say.

            “You think a baby tactic like that will work on lil’ ol’ me?” he didn’t look in her direction.

            Sam struggled, but the hold was too strong. He failed stupendously when trying to pull himself off of the wall.

            “I’m gonna kill you!” he mustered out.

            He looked amused. “Ooh, that’d be a neat trick.” He placed the gun on a nearby table. “Actually, try to make the gun float to you, Psychic Boy.” he smiled.

            Sam looked both confused and unamused. However, Emily was even more so. John chuckled, walking over to a window, next to the wall where Dean was pinned up. John let out some chuckles.

            ‘This is fun. I could have killed you all dozens of times today...but this? This is worth it.” he looked at Dean. “Your dad, he’s in here with me...trapped inside of his own meat suit. Oh, he says hi by the way.” he laughed, but then turned serious. “He’s gonna tear you apart. He’s gonna taste the iron in your blood.” he looked back at Emily, all the way across the room, so he had to shout. “He won’t mind grinding you up, but I think you know that already!”

            “You let him go.” Dean shook his head. “You let him go or I swear to God…”

            “What?” John turned his head towards him. “What are you and GOD gonna do? You know, I think this is called justice.”

            “Justice?” Emily repeated, disgusted.

            John ignored her. “You know that little exorcism you conducted today? That was my daughter.” he spat that in Dean’s face.

            “Meg…?” Dean was taken aback.

            “And that one in the alley?” John’s words heavily gripped Emily’s attention. “That was my boy.”

            “No it wasn’t.” Emily combatted. “That wasn’t your son.”

            “What?” John turned towards her. “What did you just say?”

            “That man had red eyes, not black. If they were black, they faded at the last second INTO black. Those eyes were fucking red, I saw them.” she huffed from being pinned back so heavily.

            “I saw them too.” Sam said in the same frustrated tone.

            John slowly looked at Emily, and then to the floor. “I guess you saw something I didn’t sweetie, but the one who was shot was still my boy.”

            “You’re kidding me…” Dean muttered.

            “WHAT?” John turned again. “You’re the only ones who’re allowed to have a family? You DESTROYED my children. How would you feel if I killed your family?”

            Emily looked up slowly, the image of Marcus dying burning into her brain. Sam and Dean had the same look in their eyes, but they probably thought about Mary. John smiled.

            “But wait...I already did.” he chuckled. “But still, two wrongs don’t make a right.”

            “You son of a bitch.” Dean struggled.

            “I just wanna know why.” Sam asked.

            John turned to Sam now. “Oh, why I killed mommy and pretty little Jess?” he challenged. “It’s because they got in the way.” he jabbed his finger into Sam’s chest with those words.

            “In the way of what?”

            “My plans for you.” John explained, with an almighty undertone.

            Emily’s attention was now fixed on this explanation.

            “My plans for you, and all other children like you.”

            “What kind of--”

            “Listen, can we skip the monologuing and get this over with?” Dean interrupted her.

            “Dean.” Emily warned.

            “You know what,” John turned to Dean again. “that’s funny because that’s your M.O. isn’t it? Masks all that nasty pain and it masks the truth.” John ignored Emily again.

            “Oh yea, what’s the truth then?” Dean challenged.

            “You know, you fight and you fight for this family, but the truth is they don't need you. Not like you need them. Sam –” he glanced over to him, “he's clearly John's favorite. Even when they fight, it's more concern than he's ever shown you.” he looked at Emily. “The only one that gives more concern to you than Sammy is that little thing over there, that’s why you like her so much. She isn’t your daddy.”

            “You don’t know her like I do, so you knock it off. But honestly, any parent would be proud of us. Aren’t you proud of your kids? Oh wait...that’s right… I wasted them.” Dean smiled.

            “Dean!” Emily warned again.

            As John looked down for an instant, Emily believed he wasn’t going to retaliate, but she was proven wrong when he looked back up. John caused Dean to go in aggressive shocks of pain, causing him to cry out.

            “Dean!” she shouted again.

            Sam began to struggle even more, his shouts tried to reach over her own, but Emily’s screams were more shrill than his. Dean’s chest burst with blood, it started as a trickle but it soon escalated into a river.

            “Dad, don’t you let it kill me…!” Dean looked like he was crying.

            He only bled out more, which caused Emily and Sam to scream louder. Emily began to push herself off of the wall, gaining a little bit of headway, her dorsal reaching off of the wall. Her screaming only got louder with the pain of breaking free carried with it. She noticed Sam was trying to use his mind to get the gun, but once again, it was no use. As Dean’s chest erupted with more blood, he only passed out. However, Sam and his sister did not know he had merely passed out.

            “Dean?!” Sam shouted questioningly.

            “DEAN!” Emily screamed.

            Her struggles emanated through the air, electricity seeming to raise the hairs on Sam’s arms. Her full spine was off of the wall as she used her arms to push off even further.

            “YOU STEP AWAY FROM DEAN!” she screamed.

            Like magic, Dean and Sam’s bodies flew off of the wall and onto the floor, Emily landing on her knees, trembling. As she stood, John stared at her in bewilderment.

            “I see.” he walked over as she stood up. “I see my brother got to you.”

            “You let our dad go…” she whispered. “You let my brothers go…” she didn’t look up.

            “Oh, for goodness sake. You know what you remind me of? A ticking time bomb. I’m sure you’ve been compared to this before, but quite honestly, look at you. I can see why my brother has high hopes here, but come on. You’re risking your life for a pathetic scum pot father that would rather have me kill you right here instead of letting you free. You. Should. Be. DEAD!”

            Emily looked up in question. “Then kill me, demon. Kill me if that’s what John really wants.”

            He straightened up and looked away. “Ssss, see, I can’t exactly do that…”

            “I know.” she stood up, still trembling.

            “You see, young lady…” he cupped her chin. “You’re a very special young lady.”

            She shouted and pushed him off.

            “You haven’t met him in person yet, dear. But you will. He has plans for you, and I know because that’s all Hell talks about these days.”

            “What do you mean?!” she demanded.

            “The famous little soul of Emily Jane Winchester.” he smiled in an excrutiatingly creepy way.

            In the middle of John’s laughter, he stammered to a halt. “Stop…”

            Sam looked up, finally. Able to think, he dives at the table and grabs the gun. John’s eyes turn yellow again.

            “You kill me, you kill daddy.” John smirked.

            “I know.” Sam gulped.

            Instead of the heart, Sam fired at the leg. Screaming in agony, John fell down to the ground, giving Emily the opportunity to check on Dean, slapping him to open his eyes.

            “Dean, Dean! Hey, keep your eyes on me, okay?” she snapped in his face.

            She didn’t know it, or remember it, but Dean had given her those same instructions not too long ago, causing him to smile briefly. However, she didn’t know why.

            “Dean, you’ve lost a lot of blood…” Sam confirmed.

            “Where’s dad?” Dean muttered.

            “He’s over there, he’s fine.” Sam answered.

            “Check on him…” Dean closed his eyes painfully.

            “What?”

            “Check on him…” he ordered again.

            “Hey, shut up and breathe.” she told her brother.

            Sam walked to his father, looking down at his heavy breathing, and talked to him cautiously.

            “Dad?” he asked quietly.

            “SAMMY!” John gasped. “It’s still alive Sam, it’s still inside of me, I can feel it. You shoot me. You shoot me!” John shouted.

            Confused, Sam retreated a step backward, gun still in his hands.

                        “Sam, no…” Dean croaked.

                        Realizing Sam couldn’t do it, Emily stood up.

                        “Sam, give me the gun.” she held her hand out.

                        “What?!” Sam looked at her.

                        “Sammy, give her the gun, hurry!” John was in pain.

                        “Sam, no! Don’t give her the gun!” Dean interjected.

                        “SAM!” Emily shouts.

                        But before a decision could be made, a hurricane of black smoke escaped from John’s mouth, absorbing through the ceiling and leaving. Out of breath, John looked accusingly at Sam and slouched back onto the floor. Emily sighed in frustration, knowing that she could have ended it. Dean let out a moan, kicking Emily back into high gear, but as she raced toward John, she stopped.

                        “Sam, you get dad. I’ll get Dean to the car.” she turned around and helped Dean up. “Come on, I don’t bite…”

                        As they shuttled the two out to the Impala, Dean continued to bleed. Emily however had a small conversation with him.

                        “I understand, Dean…” she said.

                        “What?”

                        “I understand why you couldn’t tell me what Marcus told you. I wasn’t ready. And I’m still not. You tell me what I need to know when you’re healed. Just focus on that right now, okay?” she opened the car door for him.

                        Dean nodded and entered the car painfully. Sam performed the same action with John. Sam got into the driver’s seat, and when Emily gave the thumbs up from the mirror, Sam stepped on the gas pedal, burning rubber out of the cabin’s yard. As they pulled off the road, Emily frequently checked Dean and John’s heart rates. They were stable, but they needed to get to a hospital, quickly.

                        “Let’s all just hold on, alright? The hospital’s ten minutes away.” Sam checked in the mirror again.

                        “Why do I feel a sense of deja vu in those words?” Emily tried to joke.

                        “Because this kind of thing happened before, and it is a little weird. but we just need to think of a game plan.” Sam spoke while driving.

                        John looked over. “I’m surprised at you, Sam… I thought we saw eye-to-eye on this...that killing the demon comes before anything and everything.”

                        Sam looked in the mirror again, seeing Emily whisper to their brother, trying to get him more responsive. “No sir. Not everything.”

                        Emily rose Dean’s hand into a thumbs up.

                        Sam smiled. “Listen, we still have the Colt, and we still have one bullet left. We just have to start over, right? I mean we already found the demon--”

                        “SAM LOOK OUT!” Emily screamed from the back seat.

                        As an eighteen-wheeler collided with the Impala in a T shape, Dean threw himself over his sister, who was in a state of panic and fear. She saw this and screamed, but Dean wouldn’t have it. The car was pushed off of the road and the door on her side flew off, sending her out the door and bouncing into the grass. Glass was stuck in her skin, and she didn’t know what other damage there was, but she was clearly fazed, vision blurring in and out.

            “I see a bad moon rising.”

            A figure seemed to loom over her eyesight as she tried to move her head. The eyes were a blood red.

            “I see trouble on the way.”

            It was the radio. She felt herself slipping as she looked up.

            “Don’t go around tonight. Or it’s bound to take your life.”

            “No…” she whispered.

            “There’s a bad moon on the rise.”

            “I found you.”


	10. Kylene D. Jinn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Impala was supposed to have been destroyed by an 18-wheeler. Emily was supposed to be there, surrounded by her brothers. However, she was somehow back in her old colony house, and Marcus....is alive? What the hell is going on? Her brothers don't remember who she is, and who is the woman that's been appearing at school, spying on her and her family? There's a bad moon on the rise.

Emily’s head hurt and rang like a bell was being bashed inside of her ears. The sensation under her was not that of a hard ground, but of a firm mattress with soft sheets. Heat radiated onto her face, a sensation she hadn’t felt comfortably in a long time. Part of her was scared to move her arms, she hadn’t even opened her eyes yet. She feared to opening her eyes to seeing a white hospital room, but what was revealed to her was the opposite. Opening her eyes, she saw her white ceiling, with a ray of sunlight streaming across it and molding with the walls. In shock, she bolted upward. Her room. The posters of bands and television, her TARDIS coin bank, even her dalek cushions, her Pokemon plushes, and her bookcase. Everything was there in its spot. Looking down at herself, there were no scratches. There were no bruises. And most importantly, under her black tank top, there were no stitches.

Eyes wide, she looked at herself and whispered. “What the hell is going on?”

A knock at her door made her head turn.

            “It’s about time you woke up, my dear.” a too familiar voice chuckled at the door.

            She could hardly speak. “Marcus…”

            Tears welling in her eyes, she whipped the blankets off of herself and ran over, embracing him in a tight hug.

            “What’s the matter? Did you have another nightmare?” his voice no longer joked.

            Ignoring his question, she squeezed him tighter before finally bolting away and to her window. She whipped her curtains fully open, the Topton sunlight streaming in to fill her entire room. Confused, she searched the lot for the Impala.

            “Where’s Sam and Dean? Are they okay too?” she had a worried expression on her face.

            “Who?” Marcus asked quizzically.

            “What do you mean ‘who’? Sam and Dean? You’ve met them before.” she slightly laughed. “You know, when….” her eyes widened again in fear and her smile vanished. She turned around.

            “Emily, what are you talking about?” he walked to her nightstand and picked up a pill bottle. “What the fuck are they giving you…”

            “What’s that?” she walked over to him, voice trembling.

            “Oh, now you’re playing the pronoun game? Emily, it’s your medication. Did you take any at all before bed? Or do I need to change the dosage?” he mumbled the last part while lifting the bandana from his neck to his mouth.

            “What are you talking about? I don’t have any medication.” her body shook. “Where are Sam and Dean?” she asked with terror in her voice. “What about the car crash?”

            Putting the pill bottle on the nightstand, he gave her his attention again. He placed his hands on her shoulders. She felt his warmth, when last time she had held his hand, it was ice cold. he looked at her with pain and confusion.

            “Emily, can you remember why you have medication?” he asked slowly.

            She shook her head.

            “I need you to calm down, first of all.”

            Clearing her throat, she focused on her breathing and calming herself down, which was astoundingly simple. Simpler than she thought.

            “You were institutionalized after Grant died. You need to remember that.” he choked on his words slightly. “I brought you home last week.”

            Looking at her feet, she knew that she didn’t remember being taken home. The bigger question was looming in the back of her mind.

            “How are you alive?” she asked.

            “What do you mean?” he sounded slightly offended.

            “No, like…” she was having trouble wrapping her head around everything. “Was it all just a nightmare…?”

            “Yes, it was. Emily, I’m right here, I’m perfectly fine. So are you, so I need you to get a hold of yourself.” he didn’t sound agitated, just dad-like.

            She nodded.

            “Good. Now get ready for breakfast, the others are waiting for you.” he stood up straight and left her alone.

            What day was it? As she looked to her phone on the nightstand, her alarm went off.

            “I see a bad moon arising. I see trouble on the way.”

            It was rather loud, and it was the vibration set as a school alarm.

            “I don’t remember setting that as a ringtone…” she whispered, walking over to it.

            “Don’t go around tonight, well it’s bound to take your life. There’s a bad moon on the rise.”

            “It’s a good song, but” she slid the screen to silence it. “it’s just eerie to wake up to.”

            She opened her closet. Her red and black plaid shirt was hung up neatly, along with the pair of jeans that went so well with her converse or her brown combat boots. The zebra-striped backpack was nestled in the corner of the room.

            “There’s something not right here.” she said to herself as she got dressed. “I need to find out where Sam and Dean are.”

            When done dressing, she picked up her backpack and opened it. Surprisingly there were textbooks inside.

            “What the?”

            She pulled out a statistics textbook, along with some completed homework with a note on it.

            “You owe me, dweeb. -Kyle”

                        “Tch.” she smiled. “I don’t owe you shit.”

                        Lugging the bag down the main stairs, Kyle was busy brushing his teeth in the main hall. When he heard her, he nonchalantly turned around.

                        “Wll ish abot tme you wke up.” he mumbled with his mouth full of toothpaste. He spit into the bathroom sink, then walked back out.

                        “Did you do my statistics homework?” she asked.

                        “Yea. You’re welcome.” he wagged his toothbrush at her.

                        Ignoring his sarcasm, she walked to the other end of the house and opened the door to the breakfast table, Ringo nowhere to be found. Puzzled, she looked to the kitchen, where Shawn was doing all the breakfast prep.

                        “Where’s Ringo?” Emily asked, cruising by him to snag a sausage link, still hot from the pan.

                        “Hey, be careful!” he scolded. “She’s still in bed, she’s been awful pale lately. Been looking like a ghost…” he mumbled.

                        “Hey, uh, do the names Sam and Dean ring any bells?” she asked in a hushed tone.

                        “No?” he looked down at her. “Are you sure you’re ready to go to school, Em?”

                        Raising her hands in defeat, she dismissed herself. “Yea, yea, I’m fine.”

                        Shawn doesn’t know either. He usually remembers everything.

                        “There she is.” she recognized Steven’s voice from a mile away.

                        Turning around, she was met with the friendly hug of her dear, orange haired friend. She greeted him with a deeper hug, which he didn’t retreat from.

                        “Dolan’s been asking where you’ve been. Of course--’’

“Nobody’s asked what’s happened. And nobody has said a word in response if so.” Marcus finished for him, appearing at the door.

The newspaper sat upright on the table, Emily snagging it as her eggs were being placed on her plate. Her eyes widened at the headline.

_“Grizzly Bear Takes Six in Western Michigan.”_

“Put that away.” she heard Marcus growl in her direction.

She looked up at him in general confusion. Getting the sense of his pain, along with the silence of everyone else in the room, she lowered the paper. Her legs trembled below the table. As those around her lowered their heads and ate, the pit in her stomach continued to fluctuate as her confusion grew more and more. Kyle finished her breakfast for her, after Marcus told him not to. Arms spaghetti, she forced herself to not cry or have the urge to vomit. Sensing her distress, Marcus pulled her chair out from the table, which startled her.

“Get up, come on.”

“What?”

“Walking to school will straighten you out. You need to get going. Remember you can call me if something happens.” he patted her back. “That goes for the rest of you, too. Get going!”

Emily left through the front door and allowed her friends to walk past her as they headed in the direction of the school. Her head continued to hurt her, as also the nausea played at her uncomfortably. All around her felt wrong. No matter how much she believed it was all real, she knew it was wrong wrong wrong. Hatching an idea, she pulled her phone out and checked the most recent texts, calls, and emails.

Nothing.

Everything was wiped clean and deleted. She even checked her address book for her brothers’ numbers.

Nothing.

It was like she had never met them. That thought sent a shiver down her spine, and it made her want to cry. Taking a shot, she dialed what she remembered of Dean’s phone number. She continued to walk as the dial tone kept up.

“Hello?” Dean’s voice echoed on the other end.

“Dean, you’re okay!” she shouted gleefully.

“Ha, just joshin’. This is a fake number. If you’ve heard this, you must know the other one. Leave a message.”

“You fucking piece of shit…” she hung up. “I don’t remember the other number, what, do you think I am, a phone book?”

“Em, are you okay back there?” Steven called back.

“Yea. Just fine.” she met up with him on the sidewalk next to the school.

 

The halls were wrong, and so were the people around her. The thing was, all of the students were the same. She recognized them all, all except for one. A girl her age, a girl whose locker was suspiciously in the same hallway as hers.On her way past her, she felt eyes burning into her back. Turning, she saw nobody there anymore. At all times of the day, this girl was somewhere in the background. She was always looking at her, even showing up in the bathroom at the same time as her. While trying to evade her, she found she was not trying at the same time. She was blonde, she was also wearing a nice sweater which seemed to be hiding tattoos on her shoulders. If the situation Emily was in was a puzzle, this girl was the wrong piece. Either that, or the entire puzzle was created out of fucked up pieces and she was the only proper thing in it. Something aggravating her was the fact Steven and Kyle weren’t leaving her alone. Steven followed her to class and kept a close eye on her, while Kyle refused to let her have contact with people.

“I killed that Wendigo.” she continued telling herself. “I killed it. I killed it.”

She walked down the hallway to the bathroom when someone with their ipod playing walked out.

“Don’t go around tonight. Or it’s bound to take your life.” the lyrics sounded.

Emily turned and watched the person walked off.

“That’s funny.” she gulped. “That song again.”

 

 “What do you mean somebody was following you?” Marcus asked, concerned.

“There was this blonde girl. I’ve never seen her before, she had these blue tattoos. I saw them when she picked up her books, she was wearing a sweater to conceal them. She was following me around, I know she was.” Emily crossed her arms.

“So what do you want me to do about it?” Marcus asked, now crossing his arms.

“I...I don’t know.” she huffed. “I just thought I’d tell you.”

“I surely hope it isn’t anything supernatural. I’ll check the records of someone like that tomorrow. For now, just...just please try to stay out of shenanigans.”

Sighing, she walked upstairs. In the one room, she heard coughing. Turning around, she realized it was coming from Ringo’s room.

“Ringo? Are you okay?” she knocked on the door.

“Emily?” she asked from inside.

“Hey, I just--’’  

“Get your ass in here, I need to talk to you. And close the door.”  she sat up in bed.

Alarmed, Emily did what she was told. She walked into the room and sat on a stool she dragged up to the bed. Ringo looked like shit. She was paler than a ghost and her hair was messier than usual.

“You look like shit, Rings.” Emily sighed.

“And you’re a confused shit. Here.” Ringo handed her a paper.

“What’s this?” Emily asked as she unfolded the paper.

“Ignore that for now, you just gotta listen to me.” she looked around suspiciously and gestured Emily closer. “You need to find your brothers if you want me to live.”

“Want you to live?! Ringo, what the fuck is going on?” she shouted, then lowered her voice.

“Long story short, you need to meet them. You think you have, but you haven’t.

And because of that, your Wendigo is still running around.” she broke out into coughing. “That girl...she has your answers. I do too, but I don’t have a lot of time.”

Emily unfolded the paper. It held a name.

“Kylene D. Jinn…”

 

Closing her door, she felt eerily guilty about being secretive about looking for the information she needed. Ringo was the only one who knew anything around here, and even though she usually was giddy about talking with Marcus about anything, she felt like she needed to do this herself. She sat on her bed and opened her laptop screen, obviously not giving a shit about the homework she had to do. She typed the name into google, which immediately gave her a homepage. She clicked on it.

“Kylene D. Jinn, working with hunters since 2005…” she read aloud. She scrolled down. “Making your wishes come true, one smile at a time….” she scoffed. “What are you, a dentist?”

There was a picture of a girl on the side, she looked exactly like the girl she saw in the halls at school. Blonde hair, blue tattoos, nice earrings, bright blue eyes. Comparing her biography, appearance, and obviously her name, she must have been a djinn.

The bottom of the home page listed a phone number. She looked at her own phone, contemplating what she was going to say. She couldn’t just say ‘oh yea lol my friend gave me your name and i googled you’. She had no idea what she was going to explain. Breathing in, she dialed the number anyway. The dial tone didn’t last very long.

“Hello?” a girl answered.

“Um, hi. So I have a bit of a situation, and my friend recommended me to you. And to be quite honest, I know you’re a djinn, and I see you work with hunters as opposed to against them, and I just want some advice.” she rambled.

“To be quite honest, I didn’t think you’d call me so quickly.” the girl seemed to giggle.

Emily’s tone hardened. “I knew it. You’re a djinn and you DO know what’s going on.”

“Well, don’t get your panties in a twist, honey. Yea, I know what’s going on and yea, I’m a djinn. But what are you gonna do about it? Nothing yet.”

“What do you mean ‘yet’? Djinn feed off of the person whom they’re sending into dreams. Why are you making yourself known to me so quickly?”

“Listen, I gotta go. I’m in the middle of an important….case.”

“Case? Who are you with right now?” Emily stood up from her bed.

“Just never mind it for right now. I’ll see you soon.” she sounded distracted.

Emily heard a male voice on the other end which she recognized. “Kylene?”

She had hung up on her. Infuriated and confused, grumbling and groaning, she stomped around her room in circles and lines, pacing and sliding her feet across the carpet angrily. Where the fuck were Sam and Dean? The frustration was bringing her to tears. Someone in the house must have noticed, because there was a knock at her door.

“Who is it?” she swallowed after asking.

“It’s Kyle. What are you screaming about in here?” he opened the door.

She wiped her eyes. “Nothing. It’s nothing.”

For a second, he looked skeptical. “Well...if you say so, I guess. But listen, you need to snap out of...whatever’s going on. We have a big hunt on Saturday. You know, the demon one?”

“A demon hunt…?” she squinted in confusion.

“The one on Saturday. There’s increased demon activity in the woods on Woodside Road. We think it has something to do with Sydney and her father, but…. Wait, that’s right. You weren’t awake when we talked about it. You were still knocked out.” he scratched the back of his head.

Kyle’s nonsense about demons and hunting made her heart skip a beat, only not in fear or worry, but in happiness. Even in her fucked up consciousness, she knew this was still the Kyle she knew and loved. Without warning, she walked over to him and hugged him.

“What the fuck?” he asked, confused. “You hate giving me hugs.”

She shook her head. “Shut up and accept it.”

He sighed. “I have no idea what’s up with you lately, but it doesn’t matter… Just stay home from school tomorrow, okay? I think it would make all of us feel better if you were here, taking a nap.” he rubbed her back. “Now stop hugging me, you’re pissing me off.”

Laughing, she let him go. However, before he left, she grabbed his arm.

“Now what?”

“Kyle, if I were to just leave one day to go on a journey, of sorts, how worried would you be about me?”

He blinked. “What kind of question is THAT?” he grinded his teeth. “You better not up and leave on us, I’d kick your ass next time we spoke!” he snapped his shark-like chompers in her direction.

“I was just curious.” she lowered his arm.

“Jesus christ, woman. Giving me a heart attack…” he grumbled, rubbing his face as he left her room.

 

The next morning, Emily felt even shittier than the night before, only physically. Her head burned, and her side slowly began developing pains beneath the skin, as if her organs were being ripped out all over again. She also continuously received flashbacks of the eighteen wheeler colliding with the Impala. Shuddering, she tried burying her head into her pillow, her mind silently screaming to make it all stop.

“Emily, you need to keep yourself comfortable, do you understand me?” Marcus ordered at the door.

She gave him a thumbs up. Hearing him sigh, she moved over on the bed, allowing him room to sit. He did indeed sit, and like a father, he rested his hand on her shoulder for comfort.

“I understand you’re going through an incredibly rough time right now. Believe me, I do know. But you also need to understand that I need you to buck up back to your old self. Not just for the hunts. Not just for your friends. But I need my daughter back.” he sounded as if he was in pain.

Looking up from her pillow, she saw the pain he held in his face. This wasn’t the same physical pain she had seen whilst he was on his death bed, but it still hurt her all the same.

“Please, don’t look like that…” she told him. “Don’t…”

“You’re all I have left. Do you understand how much it hurts to see my little girl in pain? Especially now that I feel the same way?”

Beginning to cry, she hugged him. “And do you know how much it hurts...to have to lose somebody like you?”

“I don’t want you to ever lose me. And I don’t ever want to lose you.”

It killed her. It killed her, knowing that breaking out of the asylum caused him pain that he wishes he never wanted to feel. She caused him so much pain, making him worry about her, making him suffer loneliness. At the same time, he had no idea the pain she saw. The pain she was feeling when all of those realizations collapsed in on her all at once, but all too late. The warmth she felt now had not been there. All was cold back then, causing her to turn cold with it. Another reason, why it killed her to hear those words, is because she knew John Winchester would never say those words to her. In which case, it killed her even more that she lost as great of a father as Marcus. Her tears pierced him in a way that made him even sadder. He had no idea why his child was to the point of sobbing.

 

A sputtering car engine got her attention as she was moping around her room. Feeling hopeful, she ran over to her window and looked down into the parking lot. That same black exterior and gas-guzzling physique brought a smile to her face.

“Dean! Sam!” she shouted gleefully.

She bolted down the stairs, smile stretching from ear to ear, throwing her shirt on over her cami. When she opened the door, Dean was in the middle of a talk with...somebody else in the car. Sam got out next, holding a piece of paper and analyzing the house. It seemed there was another person in the car, in the passenger seat, but they weren’t getting out. Sam approached her.

“Hello, I’m looking for a Marcus Wilson?” he squinted as he read the name.

“Oh, Marcus went to Radcliffe’s to pick up some stuff. He should be back soon, but--’’

“You heard the girl, Sam. He ain’t here, now can we get movin’?” Dean slammed his door.

There was a major error. Sam and Dean were looking directly past her, they hadn’t even given her a hug or even a hello in a brotherly fashion. They simply looked around and snapped at each other.

“But you guys can come in if you want to. Shawn is in the middle of making a pie. Dean, I’m sure you’d like a slice of that, huh?” she smiled.

“Kid…” she heard him say.

The word ‘kid’ sent a chill down her spine.

“How do you know my name?” Dean walked up next to Sam.

“What do you mean? Come on guys, you’d have to recognize your own…” she stopped mid-sentence, realizing the truth of what was going on here.

They both looked at her quizzically and severely, which brought Emily’s heart to a sinking low. Her voice cracked as she tried to speak.

“I...I’m sorry…” she turned to go back into the house.

Slamming the door, she raced past the kitchen and ran back up the stairs, slamming her bedroom door and sobbing. In whatever augmented reality she was experiencing, in a world where Marcus lived, her brothers had no idea who she was. Curling up on the floor, she brought her knees to her chest and tried to hope this was all some sort of miserable nightmare. Her crying ceased when she heard the sound of Marcus’s camaro come to a stop in the lot.

“May I ask who you two are?” she heard Marcus ask.

Sam spoke. “We received word of demonic activity in this area, and we were seeking to investigate. We’re the Winchesters.”

Emily felt like she was being stabbed. Her life before her was melting away, the life she thought she had. Lying there, on the floor in her room, she tried to think of ways to snap herself out of it. She needed to think.

“Marcus has only just met the Winchesters….and nobody else knows who they are. Marcus is alive...and the boys don’t know who I am….” she felt her side. “....I think I know what I have to do.”

Sitting up, she had come to a resolution. Her side was becoming progressively more irritated and painful, which must have meant something. There was still a part of her that had a grip on what was going on, underneath all of the fuckery that was happening on the outside. She opened her door, wiped her eyes, and proceeded downstairs. As she opened the door, she wore her expression like a true warrior.

“I’m sorry about earlier, I just--’’ she was cut off at what she saw.

In the middle of the group stood that girl with the blonde hair and the blue tattoos. Over her shoulders was Dean’s green jacket. That was explanation enough.

“Emily, what are you doing outside?” Marcus asked, his bandana now up over his face.

“I just--’’

“I told her to come back out. I needed to talk to her for a few.” the girl put her hand on Emily’s shoulder.

The boys shrugged, taking their business with Marcus to the other side of the parking lot. Speechless, she stepped away from the girl.

“You’re…”

“Kylene D. Jinn, at your service.” she performed a little courtsie.

“YOU’RE SCREWING MY BROTHER!” Emily pointed at her.

A crow flew off and Kylene was now the one being left speechless with a positively red face. Dean nor Sam had glanced over, not even Marcus gave a hollar.

“Please...keep your voice down…”

“No way. ‘Case’? Yea, if the case is in my brother’s pants. No fucking way. I need a second.” Emily felt her forehead as if a fever was coming on.

“You know what? Okay, yes, this is also a pleasurable experience for me, but you need to understand, I guided them this direction for a reason.” she spoke sweetly. “I know you’re floundering in the dark here.”

“Floundering in the…?”

“Emily, I’m a djinn, that’s no secret. But you need to think about this. I put you into a world where your father was alive. I put you into a world where you can live with your colony as a true teenage girl, with dreams and aspirations. This is a world where you never met the Winchesters.”

Emily lowered her head, but then lifted it again to gaze at her father, or atleast, who she called her father. Shaking her head to avoid tears, she then looked at her brothers.

“What about Grant….?” she whispered.

“Grant’s passing would not be affected by the boys….so in this world...he is still deceased….” she spoke gently.

“Don’t baby me, Kylene.” she spoke sharply. “Why is this happening? I was nowhere near a djinn when…” a flashback of the car crash flashed by her mind and she clutched her chest.

“Your heart rang out loud and clear.” she sighed. “I heard it, so did every other djinn in the area, most likely. The thing is, I couldn’t provide the perfect dream for you. I’m sorry.”

Emily looked her dead in the eyes. “The perfect dream? My perfect dream is where Marcus doesn’t die, where Grant was never killed, AND where my brothers still called me ‘Junior Mint’. You need to snap me out of this Matrix sequence ASAP.”

“Unfortunately, I cannot do that.” Kylene shook her head.

“What?” Emily asked angrily.

“It was your heart’s demand to have this wish, therefore your heart must decide where it would like to go.”

“The fuck is this, ‘Frozen’?” she scoffed.

“Think about it. A life with your father and your friends. A life where you can finish school and have sweet memories. A life away from the red eyed demon, constantly giving you nightmares and instilling fear into the back of your mind. Have you felt any of that since waking up here?”

Emily spoke honestly. “Not really...no…”

Kylene smiled and nodded. “See? It’s fine here.”

“But hold on.” Emily stopped her there. “My body is still my body in the real world. What are my options? Who’s sucking me dry?”

“Nobody.”

“What?”

“Your options are simple...you either ask me to kill you before anybody notices, or you go to the hospital in a coma while you live out your life here.” she gestured to the duplex.

“What’s option number three?” Emily clenched her fists.

Kylene smiled and put one hand on a cocked hip. “You know what, that’s something my Deanie Baby would say.”

“Let me just fucking stop you right there and have you agree to never say that again.” Emily stuck her hand out to say “STOP”.           

“Option three is that you force your brothers to remember who you are. That, I suppose, would be the perfect dream.”

As a smile crept across her face, it quickly faded again. There was another variable at play.

“And what about Ringo?” she asked.

Kylene hesitated. “Ringo will die.”

“WHAT?”

“Because events didn’t play out in their respective way...Ringo will die.”

“Events turn out…? What? Ugh, you know what, don’t bother explaining. It’s the same thing with Grant I guess….events not lining up and shit….” she kicked a parking slab.

“Sure. Let’s go with that idea.” Kylene shrugged as if in relief.

“If I get them to remember me...can I wake up?”

“That’ll be solely up to you. Not to me.”

After a moment, Emily nodded. “Okay. Now to find a way to get them to remember who I am.”

“Emily, can you come here for a second?” Marcus shouted to her.

The both of them jogged over to the group of them. Kylene glued herself to Dean, who didn’t exactly have a problem with it. Sam and Emily stood the same way, hand on the forehead, slightly shielding the eyes. Marcus cleared his throat, grabbing their attention.

“Emily, these two would like me to accompany them on their hunt for this demon. I would like you to lead Saturday’s hunt with Kyle.”

“This isn’t the same demon.” she rose her eyebrow.

“No, we discussed those terms.” Sam explained. “We don’t want to interfere with whatever work you’re doing here. This is a bigger deal that we need your dad here for.”

Clenching her fists, she spoke brazenly. “Where he goes, I go.”

“Emily, this isn’t a decision for you to make.” Marcus furrowed his brow not concealed by the bandana.

“I’m not going to be left here to worry about you. I’m coming with.” She not only made eye contact with him, but with the brothers as well.

Marcus sighed. “Is that okay with you boys?”

Dean gave a sideways nod. “I guess. If Sam or Kylene are alright with it, there isn’t a sense in arguing I guess.”

Emily smiled. “Awesome.”

The couple excused themselves to the car while Marcus, Sam, and her had a little ‘heart-to-heart’.

“So, Marcus, you don’t need to worry about your daughter. I assure you, if anything goes sideways--”

“I’m a hunter, not a china doll, Sam.” she rolled her eyes. “I can handle myself.”

Sam was taken aback, as was Marcus. She shrugged.

“Well, uh, okay. So what are you the best at? Fighting wise?”

“Gimme two guns and a rifle and I can go nuts. Little bit of holy water and bam, we’re set to go.”

“And where do you expect to get those guns, Emily?” Marcus gave her a stern look.

She didn’t have any of Grant’s materials with her anymore. Therefore, what she just said must have sounded like blasphemy.

“You, obviously…” she caught herself.

“....I’ll give you two pistols and that hand-me-down hunting rifle. Now then, Sam, what exactly is your tactic?”

“Well, what I had in mind was surrounding it. You know, trying to corner it before ganking it.”

“How do you know where the demon’s going to be? You may need someone to sniff it out.” Emily argued. “Walking into a demon nest isn’t the best thing, Sam. What do you expect, to just go in there, guns blazing? Hard to believe that was even your idea. What you need to do is create a devil’s trap. Except the thing is, you’d need to lure it in there. Can you tell me how to do that? Come on, you gotta know this.”

Marcus, appalled, decided not to utter a word. Instead, he stood back and watched as she discussed such a game plan so simply. She talked as if she had come up with plans like this before.

“Holy water… Wait, what? Devil’s trap?”

“It traps demons. They can walk into it, but they can’t walk out of it. They get stuck there. And yes, holy water will work, but at the same time, we need bait. If these demons work for who I think they do, I’m the best thing. But what else do demons like, Sammy?” she was smirking at this point. “Demons enjoy death and killing. Bait, bait, bait!” she clapped her hands with the word ‘bait’.

“Hold on, what do you…? How do you know what this is all about?!” Sam looked more frightened than angry. He stared at her for a long time. “You know about this?”

Marcus continued to watch.

“You need to agree with me here, Sam. If you can get Dean on board, this is going to be great. After it’s trapped, that’s where he can shoot it. It’ll make everybody happy, then….then you can go home.” her confident smile turned into a deflated one.

Sam nodded and walk back towards the Impala. As he walked away, Marcus stepped in front of her and looked at her face.

“I’m surprised you knew all of that. But at the same time, I wish you hadn’t known that. I’ll get you what you need. But Emily, I need you to promise that you won’t turn into my son. Don’t go overboard. If you feel it necessary at a certain time, I won’t be upset if you back out.”

“I’ll be okay.” she smiled at him.

As she walked back into the house, Marcus watched. Untying his bandana, he looked at it in despair.

“Don’t choose me over yourself, my dear.”

 

“What the hell do you mean she knows why we’re here?” Dean shouted.

“I MEAN she gave me the clear knowledge that she knows who these demons are working for. I saw it in her eyes.” Sam paced around the motel room.

“What are you, a voodoo hippie guy? Saw it in her eyes? Sam, she knew who we were, she knows what we’re after, and she knows more about demons than we do. How in hell is that possible?” he turned to Kylene. “Did you know about this before dragging us out here?”

Kylene shrugged her shoulders. “Don’t look at me. All I know is that a girl called me about a demon nest in Pennsylvania. When I matched up the evidence, there it was, a nest.” she brushed her hair. “I didn’t know it was her.”

“Uh huh. All seeing djinn and you didn’t see this coming?” Sam stepped forward.

Offended, Kylene cracked her knuckles. “You want to say something to me, Sam?”

Dean got in the middle. “Hey now, come on, don’t fight. You two are never like this. Let’s just sit down, eat some pie, and chill out.”

Sam sighed irritatedly. “Dean--”

“Yea, Sam, we’ll discuss it later.”

Sam grabbed his coat and stepped outside. Shaking his head, he leaned on the balcony of the Topton Motel, the moon’s light bouncing off of the walls. He heard the hubub downstairs at the bar, and he watched cars go by as they turned right and left at that one crowded stop sign. He couldn’t help but think he had been there before.

“We need bait, and if these demons are working for who I think they are, I’m the best option.”

“How did you know that?” he whispered.

He heard a whistle from the ground. Looking down, he saw her.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“I need to show you how to make a devil’s trap, don’t I?” she shrugged with her hands in her pockets.

Looking toward his door, he sighed. He heard what he figured he would. Walking down the stairs to the ground level, he made eye contact with her again. There was something familiar about her eyes that made his skin crawl.

“Yea, I know, I have great eyes. You wanna learn or not?” she held up a piece of chalk.

He nodded. “Yea, that’d be good.”

She led him to the back of the building, where there was a clear spot in the parking lot. He looked at her the whole time. For some reason, she appeared to be holding her side.

“Are you injured?” he asked.

“No. I just have some pain here. Not a big deal at all, it’s just a muscle spasm...probably.” she shrugged it off.

As she constructed the devil’s trap, Sam took the opportunity to ask some questions.

“How did you know my brother and I?”

“You two are famous hunters. It’s hard not to know who you are.”

“How do you know the yellow eyed demon?”

Nearly crushing the chalk, she stopped drawing.

“Only our family knows about him. And I know damn well that you aren’t….family…” he squinted.

“This is the basic structure. A demon walks in it, they can’t get out.” she walked around it in circles. “Once that happens, you’re free to either exorcise it or gank it with holy water soaked bullets, which is what I enjoy doing. It’ll suck for the meat suit, but it’ll get rid of the demon.”

“I’m surprised you know all of this. This is some top notch stuff… Did your dad teach you this?”

“You could say I learned it because of him, yea…” she smiled faintly.

“Well, he looks like a great dad. Don’t you lose him.” he drew the devil’s trap on a piece of paper.

“You have no idea.” she whispered.

“What was that?”

“Nothing. You go back inside and rest up. If Kylene’s going to be navigator, she needs to keep on top of it. I expect you and Dean to pull up your end on firepower. Marcus and I will set up the devil’s trap.” she made her way to the sidewalk.

“Wait, hold on. Just one more thing.”

Stopping, she turned around. “What is it?”

The thought Sam had remembered had gone astray. As the memory left him, he turned in defeated confusion. “Nothing…”

 

Marcus handed her an old hunting rifle, which was about a decade different than Grant’s Scarecrow. He did however hand her two pistols that were equal in model to Black Ant and Salamander. This arsenal would be good enough for her. The rest of the colony had been informed of this change of plans, having Kyle lead the assault in their own hunt. Marcus had his arsenal ready: a samurai sword and a stash of several guns. They would share the holy water, and Emily carried her books and chalk. The hum of the Impala as well as the whirr of the Camaro could be clearly heard outside.

“Remember, Emily. If anything goes wrong, let me handle it.”

“I’m surprised you aren’t against me being the bait.” she loaded her pistol. “Why is that?”

“I know you can get the job done.” he filled his backpack.

“What if there’s more than one?” she asked.

“We’ll handle it like partners.” he cracked his knuckles.

As they saddled up and headed outside, Kylene held a road map and was highlighting the most important turns and back streets, in case they needed to take a detour. Her own pistol was hanging at her belt, signaling that she would be backup if something went wrong. Dean looked fired up and ready to ride, but he refused to make eye contact with Emily. Sam was checking their supplies and ammo. Following Marcus, she tried to think of their situation. If Emily would be bait, Marcus was her back up. Marcus or Kylene, either one, would send off a signal to the boys. The only thing with a hole in it was the amount of demons in the nest. If there were more than three, there would be a problem. One devil’s trap wouldn’t cut it then. Patted on the back by Marcus, she snapped out of her trance.

“We’re following the boys. Apparently the nest is an abandoned factory. Hasn’t been worked in for years. To be honest, that seems a little big for just one demon.” he got into the car.

“I agree. Should we scatter the traps?”

“We should.”

She nodded. “Sounds like a plan. What’s Kylene going to do?”

“Backup.” the car rolled out of the parking lot. “I’m not saying I don’t trust that girl, but a djinn cooperating with hunters is a little odd.”

“I thought that too. But she seems good for the plan.”

Even though I think it’s uncomfortable she’s dating my brother.

“I’m confident knowing I’ll be there to back you up this time. I don’t want anything bad happening to you.”

“This time”, huh…?

As they left the sleepy town of Topton, both parties were guided straight past the schools and onto a highway. In the distance there was a plethora of buildings. Emily’s eyes widened, the factory looked like its own city.

“Marcus…” she said in awe.

“I know. We may need a change of plans.” he grumbled.

Both of the cars turned off into the visitors’ parking lot and maneuvered past debris of unfinished construction and fallen street lights. There seemed to be no end to the buildings, giving Emily an eerie sense of fear.

They parked, as the brothers had already left the vehicle. Kylene was standing atop the Impala with binoculars.

“This place is never-ending.” she sighed. “We’ll be lucky if we can even get a sniff of it.”

Emily thought to herself. What they could do was split up into three parties, her going off on her own, but she knew Marcus would argue that, and, she didn’t enjoy the thought of not being at Marcus’s side when battle came across. However, Emily was able to create devil’s traps faster by herself, especially if she wasn’t tied down with questions like “what do you mean you can smell hell”. It wasn’t the fact she could track demons, it was the fact the scent drew her in in some creepy way. Marcus patted her shoulder.

“Out of the question. I know what you’re considering.” he whispered.

“I figured.” she sighed.

“Emily, Marcus, can you come here for a sec?” Sam called them over.

Walking farther south, she picked it up, a scent.

“I say we have Emily go in first, set up the traps.” Sam suggested.

“What?!” Marcus shouted. “Out of the question!”

“She isn’t going in alone.” Sam tried calming him down.

Dean stepped forward. “I’ll be going in with her. She’ll lead the way while you, Sam, and Kylene follow more down south. You won’t be too far, but not too close either.” he explained, holstering his gun.

Marcus and Emily looked at each other. “Do you trust this man?” he narrowed his eyes.

With a cocky grin, she nodded. “With my life.”

They fist bumped, Marcus sighing as he did so. He patted her shoulder. “Be careful.”

As Dean and her began to leave, she gave him a big smile. “You don’t need to tell me that twice.”

 

“It’s dark as hell in here…” Dean complained, turning on his flashlight.

As the door opened, it revealed conveyer belts upon conveyer belts and machines that had rusted and shut down. Lamps overhead creaked as they swung slowly, back and forth, seeming threateningly close to falling down.

“Where should we start?” he asked, looking around.

Emily inhaled deeply. Eastward seemed the most valid. “Straight back. It seems like there’s more rooms straight on.” she walked ahead.

“Tell me where we should plant the first one of these, eh, devil’s traps.”

“Right here, actually. That way, if they try getting away by machinery and pass over it, they’ll crash land.” she drew a trap between two sections of conveyer belts. “Now be careful, don’t smudge the chalk. One breach and they’re free, you got that?”

“Loud and clear, princess.” he nodded smugly.

As she finished, she stood up and marveled her trap. Great. Turning back to the end of the room, they ventured forward. Behind the next door were shelves and shelves beyond measure. It was either the factory’s records room or some library. Books were thrown on the floor and all around. Papers were cluttered high and low, it looked like a tornado had gone through. Inhaling again, she could tell they were getting close.

“There’s no place like home…” she whispered as she pointed her flashlight down the unending bookshelves.

Suddenly, there was movement. Dean unholstered his gun, limiting the usage for his light.

“Calm down!” she hissed.

Pointing her flashlight ahead, she caught the glimpse of a door swinging closed. She motioned forward.

“Just keep behind me.” she ordered.

As they reached the door, she placed another trap. It was great to put it behind them as they went so they wouldn’t be surprised from behind, especially at doorways.  Opening the door, there didn’t seem to be anything out of the ordinary, just some more machines and lifts.

“Hey…” Dean started.

“Yea, what’s up?” she asked, searching the room with her light.

“Back there, when Marcus asked if you trusted me…” he continued. “You said ‘with your life’.What did that mean?”

“What do you think it meant? It means I think you don’t look untrustworthy. And I am kinda counting on you to keep me not dead.”

“Yea, but, with your life? We’ve never--”

“DEAN!” she shouted.

As she turned her flashlight behind Dean, a man jumped from the top of a lift to land on top of him. Dean turned, saw the man, and jumped out of the way.

“Are you okay?” she shouted, attaching her light to her belt. She learned how to do that from “The Last of Us”.

Unholstering her pistols, she made a careful watch out for that specific target and any others coming her way. Hearing snarling from behind, she quickly turned and shot. She knew she had made contact because she heard the bullet get consumed by skin.

“Retreat to the traps!” she shouted.

As she shouted, the lift was toppled over in front of the door. The only other way out was through any other random doors they found. She hatched an idea.

“Dean!”

“Yea?!” he shouted, shooting at the same time.

“Keep this asshole off of me while I make another trap!” she whipped her chalk out.

“Got it!”

The trap she formed this time around was significantly bigger, taking up almost the entire middle of the room, doing the best she could between machines and everything. Due to the fact she was in darkness, almost completely, and the demon was distracted, it couldn’t have noticed the trap was made.

“Dean, there’s a door here! Run towards me!”

Without any complaints, Dean led the demon across the room and straight across the devil’s trap. As if it had hit a wall, the demon came to a halted stop. Huffing and puffing, Emily asked for salt. Being given some, she outlined the outsides of the circle in salt, so it would be painful for the circle to be broken.

“You saved my ass, kid. Good job.” they high fived.

“No problem. Now we should get moving, there’s a good scent down this way--”

“Scent?” he crumpled up his face.

“Don’t ask, just follow me--”

They heard a girl screaming from further in the building. Dean recognized it before Emily did, bursting through multiple sets of doors before they were able to reach the destination. As they burst into a particular room, Emily realized that the demon they had encountered earlier was just a watch dog. In the center of the room, Marcus, Sam, and Kylene were being circled by six demons. Lights shining in their eyes, they hissed unpleasantly. Suddenly, a large overhead light turned on. A seventh demon was responsible for turning on Hell’s lights.

“We have a whole party, here!” the seventh demon announced. “Kill the extras.”

Screaming, Kylene was the first one to fire, sending a demon retreating backwards into a machine. Sam sprayed holy water onto the demons, causing them to scream in agony as the sound of burning skin arose around the group. Kylene separated herself from the group, climbing atop a crane to get a better angle. Djinn were agile.

“Marcus!” Emily screamed as she saw him get flanked.

To relieve her panic, Marcus was able to cut through the demon like a slice of pie. Marcus’s sword was blessed by a priest, allowing his blade to kill demons straight through, of course also killing the vessel. Emily kissed her two guns, racing forward to Kylene’s aid, taking care of any demons attempting to climb the crane. She was doing a great job by herself, she was quite the badass with a weapon. Turning her attention back to the brothers, it seems Sam had been pinned down by the demons’ ring leader. He was speaking to him, and Emily had a feeling she knew what it was. Running forward, she aimed both of her guns at the demon and fired away. Sam covered his head and face as the demon fell back, dazed. Dean, on the other hand, was having a grand old time firing away, and missing, at demons climbing other bits of machinery. It seemed like the demons kept coming and coming, when the truth was they couldn’t do much but waste their holy bullets until they had a chance to meet Marcus’s blade. Whipping her chalk out once again, she got to work on creating circles all over the room. Having demons avoid the traps would give them less room to jump around in, thus giving the team more of an advantage. However, this was just one room in a huge building. Five on seven didn’t seem hard, but what if there was more? She was startled when Kylene screamed again. Turning around, she saw what she had feared; another wave of them. This was more than a nest, it was an absolute nightmare. Why were there so many in one place? That’s when she remembered. This was all fabricated so she could make a choice. Growling, she looked to Kylene for guidance, who simply just shook her head.

“Dammit!” she screamed as she aimed at a horde of them with her rifle. “Fucking eat salt!”

She shot with a salt bullet, surely stunning a few of them. Back in the middle, the group came to a huddle.

“Marcus, you’re the only one here that’s one-shotting any of them.” Emily panted. “There’s just no end to them.”

After a moment of hesitation, Marcus took her pistols and replaced them with different ones, ones marked with holy symbols. However, the initials were not Marcus’s.

“G.W….” she whispered. “No.” she looked up. “You don’t have to give me these.”

Marcus winked. “They’re the only ones that work with the holy water remedy, aren’t I right? Good luck, my dear.” he ran into the horde, sword swinging.

Even though there weren’t that many left, it was still a tough fight. Kylene used her claws to hack and slash enough enemies and weaken them, letting Sam or Dean finish them with their guns, then trapping them in circles. Emily met back up with Marcus, in a way. They had split responsibilities in the group of demons. Emily stunned them with bullets, finally being successful, while Marcus finished them off. Huffing and puffing, it seemed like it was only down to one demon. Riddled with bullet holes and filled with scratches, the woman vessel was completely trashed.

“Just give up, would you?” Dean spat at her.

“That’s something your father would say.” the woman smirked right back.

“You bitch--!”

Marcus cut her through with his sword, silencing her.

“Thanks.” Dean shrugged away.

Kylene and Emily high fived, then gave each other a friendly hug.

“Dude, you’re great with a gun. You backed us up hard core.”

“I work with hunters. It’s what I do.” she shrugged with a smile.

As Emily turned, she ran into Marcus’s chest. “Ow.” she muffled.

“It’s not my fault you’re so short.” he laughed. Kneeling down, he rested his hand on her shoulder. “I’m so proud of you.” he said it with a smile.

Beaming with happiness, her eyes looked around the room. And as they did, she noticed a particular demon attempting to erase his circle. Though it burned his hands, he persisted. His eyes were locked on Dean, who had his back turned while watching the rest of the demons. Eyes widening, she ran right past her father with bursting intent. It all was so fast, but in turn, it was all so slow. Emily saw as the circle broke free, and the demon pulled out a knife from his belt.

“DEAN!” she screamed, only a man’s distance away.

She jumped forward, pushing Dean out of the way with her arms behind her, stomach exposed to take the full brunt. The knife slashed clean through, beginning at the scar in her lower intestine and ending closer to her chest. It burned. In her ear, she could hear her brother shouting, but she didn’t know what it was. As she hit the ground, she could see the demon retreating, Kylene making an attempt to chase after it. She was turned right side up so she was able to, well, be drained of the blood so it wouldn’t pool. Dean was smacking her.

“Why did you do that?!” Dean shouted. “Come on, dammit! Kylene, get back here! Use your healing or whatever!”

Sam was snapping in her left ear. “Hey hey hey, come on now.”

Marcus’s footsteps were the loudest of all. “NO!”

_How ironic…it’s your turn…to see me fall._

“I had to protect you…that demon…it was going to kill you.”

“Kylene!” Dean shouted almost angrily.

Kylene hurried over, her tattoos were glowing blue. Leaning down next to Emily’s ear, she whispered.

_“You’ve made your choice.”_

“Kylene, come on, you’ve come through for us before! Can you help her?!” Dean shouted.

“Dean I—’’ she tried.

“Dean, she’s losing too much blood.” Sam said, panicked. “Marcus, your bandana!”

Without hesitation, Marcus took his bandana off.

“No…it’ll get all dirty…” she tried lifting her arms to shoo it away.

“You gotta hang on Junior Mint, you understand me?” Dean looked into her eyes with urgency.

Though she was dying, her eyes shined brighter. “Dean…”

“Sammy, press on that wound!” he ordered.

Marcus took her hand and squeezed it tight. “I know it hurts…it hurt for me, too…” he whispered. “But it’s okay…soon you won’t feel pain…”

Tears stung at her eyes. She didn’t want Marcus to be saying this to her, but Kylene had him say it for a reason. Dean slapped her again, not hard, but hard enough. Suddenly, she began to hear a melody emanating from somewhere.

_“There’s a bad moon on the rise.”_

“I swear to god, you can’t do this.” Dean continued to say. “Junior Mint!”

 

“Well, I’d say you put her through the ringer, eh, Kylene?” the man chuckled.

She sighed. “It had to be done. Her heart was split and she needed to make a decision.”

“Well now, I’m glad you were able to turn it in my favor.” his eyes gleamed in the moonlight.

The smoke from the crash was still rising into the sky, nobody had moved an inch from their spots in the car, it almost seemed like they were all dead.

“I wasn’t the one who swayed her. If anything, I wanted her to stay in school. I wanted her to be happy. But now, when she wakes up, she’ll remember that you’re always around.” she clenched her fists.

“For someone who warps destiny, you sure don’t have the best understanding of it.” he looked at her. “But I’m not counting on you to understand my methodology.”

Kylene allowed her tattoos to stop glowing. The time had come to leave, but not without a proper goodbye. Walking over to Emily’s body in the grass, she pulled a business card out of her pocket and shoved it into Emily’s.

“In case you ever need me again. Save me some of that brother of yours, would ya?” she smiled. Standing up, she turned and waved at the man before disappearing.

“You djinn.” he chuckled. “You never cease to amaze. I’m happy I was able to watch this evolution, but I have some…errands to attend to.” he walked over to Emily’s body as well. “I’ll see you soon.”

            Stirring, Emily found herself waking up in the dark. The stench of smoke stung her throat, and the pains from her mid-section to chest had left her. The only pain left was aches left in her arms and legs, a little ache or two in her back. Kneeling in front of her was Sam, face bloodied and tired, screaming at her to wake up.

            “Sam?” she asked, sitting up.

“Thank goodness someone’s awake. I called an ambulance already, are you hurt anywhere?” he patted her arms and cheeks.

“Where’s Dean?” she remembered the adrenaline from the dream.

“In the car, but please, don’t freak out. That’s why I called an ambulance.”

Looking past Sam, even past the car a ways, she saw the figure with blonde hair and shining tattoos, sitting on top of the Impala. Giving one last wave, she disappeared into the moonlight.


	11. The Smell of the Reaper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the crash, and after Emily's choice with the djinn, the Winchesters are rushed to the hospital, where Dean is in critical condition. Emily faces more of her own personal demons, while also teaming up with Sam to make sure Dean is not taken away by a Reaper. At the end, John tells Emily something she never thought she would hear from him. But...is it truthful?

“Dean?” Emily asked more to Sam.

She remembered the crash, how Dean had jumped in front of her to protect her. Crawling onto her feet, she tried to run at the car. Sam was holding her arm, trying to hold her back, but it wasn’t going to work. Dean was splayed out over the back seats, almost falling out.

“Oh my god…” she sat him up as gently as she could. “Dean?!”

In the distance, there was the whirring of helicopter blades.

“I called an ambulance.” Sam said again as there were sirens in the distance. “Please, it’s okay, just calm down--”

“Don’t you tell me to calm down! Have you seen yourself?!” she shouted, trying to get past him. “Sam, let me go!”

An ambulance skid into the grass, EMTs jumping out at lightning speed.

“Dean!” she shouted as two other arms grabbed her around the shoulders. “No, no! Let me go!”

They strapped her down onto a stretcher and put a brace around her head. Sam was being put through the same thing, only he was struggling as well. He looked different, especially panicked.

“That’s my brother and my dad! You need to let me see them, are they okay?!”

“Sam!” Emily continued to struggle.

“Please, both of you, settle down! You need to stay still.” an emergency response woman instructed.

As the two were loaded into the back of the ambulance, Emily couldn’t help but stare at her brother in a blind awe. Her arms were strapped down, but she wanted to hold his hand. Both of them had settled down, now that they were being driven away to some unknown hospital.

“Are dad and Dean going to be okay…?” she asked.

“Yea.” she didn’t see him nod. “They’ll be okay. But are you okay?”

“I am...I’m okay…”

The nurses around them wouldn’t allow any more talking while they ran tests. Emily thought to herself all of the things that have happened in the past 24 hours. When she remembered the red-eyed demon, her heart jumped.

“Please, honey, settle down.” an EMT told her.

Trying not to shake, she thought hard. Where did that bastard run off to? He easily could have taken her away somewhere, but she was left at the crash site. Unharmed, in fact. At the hospital, Sam and Emily were wheeled off to different rooms. Sam was still in a shouting mood while Emily was beginning to reside to her thoughts.

_This is when they do the classic blood pressure tests, ask you a bunch of questions, and then make you take a piss sample because it was a car crash._

“Now sweetie,” some nurse started. “We’re just going to run some tests. Your brother and daddy will be flying in soon.”

“Don’t say daddy. I’m seventeen, not a china doll.” Emily retorted with an eye roll.

“Oh. Right.” the nurse answered.

Tests were conducted, lights were flashed in her eyes, and blood pressure tests were conducted. It was all a normal routine. Sadly to say, of course, it was a normal routine. Her phone was taken from her rear pocket and placed on a table, while her body was searched for any broken glass or any other type of debris. The scar on her side hadn’t been opened, thankfully, and she was only left with a few cuts and bruises. When her tests were concluded, Sam was waiting for her at the door. He had a few bandages and black and blue marks, most of all those bruises left from the previous day, and seemed like he was ready to take a nap.

“How’s my sister, is she alright?” Sam asked.

“Yep, just a few cuts and bruises. Close to a concussion, but it seems to be just whiplash. A good night’s sleep for the both of you will have you up and ready to go.” the doctor flipped papers on his clipboard.

“Good. Thank you.” Sam nodded as the doctor walked out.

Emily gave her brother a hug, which he graciously returned. 

“First car crash?” Sam asked, somewhat jokingly.

“No, I just…” she sighed. “I need to tell you this dream I had, Sam. But for right now, I’m just happy to be hugging you…happy to hear you call me your sister.”

Surprised, Sam looked at her. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Shaking her head, she told him to forget it until later.

“Emily, we need to get to Dean’s room.”

“Do you think he’s okay?” she gulped.

“I don’t know, I sure hope so. I overheard that dad just got settled, but I’m more worried about Dean.”

Emily was worried too. The last thing she saw of her brother was his body being thrown over hers. And then of course there was the dream she had, that horrible experience with the djinn. Glancing up at Sam as they walked through the halls, she couldn’t help but feel sad. She knew that Sam didn’t ACTUALLY watch her die, but she still kind of felt bad. Sam began staring down room numbers as they continued their trail down the hallway. Suddenly, Sam stopped at a room.

            “Here we go.” he muttered.

            Entering the room, the both of them were met with the same shocking sight. In the hospital bed, hooked up to incredible amounts of machinery, was Dean. Emily’s eyes widened in horror as she looked at the tubes they had shoved down her brother’s throat.

            “Oh no…” she heard Sam whisper.

            A doctor walked in behind them with his own clipboard. Emily stepped forward in a sort of shock, looking over her brother. Tubes, wires, all sorts of shit. It was disgusting in a way, seeing that he had so much being done to him.

            “Your father’s awake, you can visit him if you’d like.” the doctor said, looking at his papers.

            “What about our brother?” Sam asked.

            “Well, he sustained a fair amount of injuries. Blood loss, contusions to his liver and kidney…” he seemed to trail off. “But it’s the head trauma I’m worried about. There’s sure signs of cerebral edema.”

            Emily’s palms began to sweat as she listened to what the doctor had to say.

            “Well, what can we do?” Sam looked at the doctor.

            “We can’t know what to do until he wakes up. If he wakes up.”

            “ _If_.” Emily reiterated.

            “Well dear, people with these kinds of injuries don’t survive very long. He’s fighting very hard.” he said in a sort of puppy voice.

            “Tch.” she looked down at Dean’s face angrily.

            “Come on Emily, we should visit dad.” Sam warned in her general direction.

            She didn’t move from her spot.

            Sam cleared his throat in a brotherly, warning matter and it forced her to walk out of the room with him.

            “I know how you get in situations like this. I need you to keep a level head.” Sam made eye contact with her.

            “What do you mean ‘how I get’? I’m only reacting in a human way.” she wrinkled her nose.

            “How you got with Marcus, how you got with the Wendigo, about the majority of things gone wrong here? I’m sorry, I don’t mean to bring that up, but you know exactly what I’m talking about. I can’t have you acting out.”

            Emily didn’t admit it aloud, but she knew exactly what Sam was talking about.

“We’re here, now come on, happy face.” Sam nudged her.

“Happy face, huh?” she heard John talking in his room. “That doesn’t sound like a very inviting statement.”

Not quite sure if she detected sarcasm or not, she faked a smile. However, she trailed behind Sam in a somewhat frightened manner. Even though she had that experience with the djinn, she had not forgotten about the events at the cabin. John could tell because he made eye contact with her as Sam talked to him about Dean. It seemed, that for the first time, they needed to talk about something. With his arm in a sling, John had to awkwardly pull out a business card and hand it to Sam. Only then he broke eye contact.

“Here, give them my insurance.”

Sam chuckled when he read the card. “Elroy McGillicutty?”

“And his two loving sons.” he looked at Emily. “I’m sorry, my plan doesn’t cover you.”

She rose her hand to silence him. “I’m covered by another person’s plan. Don’t worry, it’s okay.” she was actually sincere about it.

He nodded in her direction. “Anyway, what else did the doctor say about Dean?”

“They won’t do anything.” Sam summarized. “I don’t know, I’m thinking of finding a voodoo priest to lay some mojo on him.”

“We’ll find someone. Although, it may be a one in a million shot.” John thought aloud.

“Well what are we gonna do, sit here with our thumbs up our asses?” Sam replied back with attitude.

“Sam, I said we’d look. We’ll check under every stone.” he paused and made a quick glance in Emily’s direction. “Where’s the Colt?”

“Your son is dying and you’re worried about the Colt?” Sam replied in disgust.

“That demon is still out there, probably hunting us. That gun is our only card.” he snapped right back.

Sam sighed. “It’s in the Impala. It was dragged off of I-83.”

“Oh, Dean won’t wanna hear that…” she whispered.

“You need to clear out that car before some junk man finds what’s in it.” John ordered.

“I already called Bobby, he’s about an hour out.”

“Good. Meet up with Bobby and get that gun back.” he looked at Emily again. “You stay here with me and Dean.”

They both nodded. As Sam started to leave, John stopped him quickly.

“Hold on, I need you to pick up a few things.” he handed him a piece of paper.

Sam looked bewildered. “Acacia, Oil of Abramelin? What’s this stuff for?”

“Protection.” John answered.

Emily, now bewildered, widened her eyes and seemed to smile in John’s direction. Sam didn’t say anything about it and just left the room. When she was sure he had left, Emily gave a side smirk.

“That isn’t for protection.”

“I know. He’ll figure it out eventually, but I’m really hoping he doesn’t.” he sighed. “Pull up a chair.”

She pulled up a chair that was by the bed and sat down. The situation was awkward, considering this was usually the proximity where fighting began.

“I know the things that demon said in the cabin…did you want to tell me something about that?”

“What? No. All I know is that he’s after me and I don’t know why.” she looked at her fingers tapping her knees.

“Well, apparently two of my children were chosen by demons to do something, which not only bums me out, but it gets me really damn angry. It’s bad enough that Mary had to go, but now Sammy has to be roped into this like some kind of puppet.”

Emily didn’t feel quite right; her hairs began to stand on her arms. Looking around the room, she saw nothing out of the ordinary, but there was still something nipping at her. She felt like Dean was supposed to be there with them,

“Are you listening to me?” John asked, clearly irritated.

“Yea.” she replied. “All I’m getting out of this is that Sam and I seem to be in the same boat. Is there anything you wanted to actually say to me that didn’t involve Sam?”

He hesitated. “Yes. But you can’t say anything _to_ Sam.”

“I figured. What is it?”

“Those ingredients…you know what they’re for, right?”

She nodded. Marcus had taught her.

“If I have to, I’m gonna summon that thing.”

“And that involves a trade…” she whispered.

“Right. But please, you have to promise not to say a word to your brother. If I’m thinking properly right now, I know you’ve seen enough of this. I don’t know who, I don’t know what, but you seem to understand where I’m coming from. You know what I’m expecting.” he explained.

Surprisingly, she didn’t raise her guard. She simply nodded. “You’re expecting to have to save your child.”

“Right.” he swallowed. “So please. Can I trust you?”

They shook hands, her nodding. “It’s a deal.”

 

After the discussion with John, Emily sat in the comfort of the hallway outside her brother’s room. Staring in through the doorway, she was trying to relax. Of course, staring at her brother’s dying body wasn’t helping much at all. Breathing deeply, she closed her eyes and remembered the dream she had. She had sacrificed herself for her brother’s sake, and now she was going to allow her father to do the same kind of thing, most likely giving up the Colt to save Dean’s life…if he needed the saving. Obviously, she felt bad about having to keep that kind of thing from Sam, but she knew that if it was going to save Dean, she didn’t have a problem with it. On the other hand, sacrificing the Colt to save Dean might seem counter-productive. If they gave the gun away, they’d be back at square one. They would probably be at square zero, to be quite honest. Sighing, she opened her eyes. To her surprise, she thought she saw the glimpse of a figure in her peripheral vision.

“Dammit Emily, now you’re seeing things?” she whispered to herself.

Standing up, she casually walked down the hallway, glancing through some doorways to see the activity in the rest of the hospital. There weren’t many people dying, so she thought, but she felt a lot of tension and some sadness. She hated hospitals in a slew of ways. However, in another way, she liked them. To some extent, a hospital provided the stability to some people that needed it the most. Because of that, she forgave hospitals. A chill ran up her spine, causing her to have that one manic shiver. Her hair stood on end again. Prior to before, she had thought of Dean. Once again she had that thought, only the feeling stuck with her.

“Dean?” she said aloud.

The feeling remained. It was a long shot, but she stuck with the belief her brother could somehow hear her. Walking back the direction she came, she peered into her brother’s room again, seeing the same thing she had before. He was still there with the same machines, same equipment, same coma.

“Hmm…” she furrowed her brows.

Walking even further down the hallway, she heard the monotone beep of a heart monitor and the rush of doctors. In that instant, a force seemed to flash through her, causing her to almost step back and blink. Turning back _again_ , she popped her head into Dean’s room again.

“I must look like a fruit loop, but I swear…” she whispered.

_“In this time of dying, you might figure he’s trying to tell you something.”_ a voice in her head pondered.

It took her a second. “Is there something in the hospital?” which took her another second, “But how would Dean know that?” which took _another_ second, “Unless he’s that close to death…” she scratched her scalp with both of her hands. “If he’s here, then he’s probably laughing at me. If he isn’t here, I’ve gone paranoid. Either way, I need to get a grip on both myself and on whatever the Hell is happening here.”

She walked around the room tapping walls, clapping her hands in spots, and even talking out loud to induce responses. When all failed, not getting the slightest response, she shluffed her hands into her pockets. In her left pocket, she felt something out of place. Gripping a piece of what felt like paper, she pulled out a business card. It was Kylene’s.

“You’re kidding me…” she whispered.

Just like that, her hairs stood on end again. Turning her head out the door, she heard the tramping footsteps of Sam coming down the hallway. Shoving the card back in her pocket, she rushed over to greet him. As words were ready to escape her mouth, Sam walked right on by.

“Rude.” she followed him.

Sam was clutching his duffel bag firmly, grinding his teeth in an attempt to remain calm. He was headed for John’s room. Just by his stature, she knew that Sam had found out what the ingredients were really for, especially considering he had just met up with Bobby of all people. Bobby knows everything, so he probably tuned him in. Gulping, she followed him into their dad’s room.

“You think I wouldn’t find out?” Sam asked John, throwing his bag on the bed.

John glanced at Emily, who shrugged. “What are you talking about?”

“These ingredients. They aren’t for warding off a demon, it’s for summoning one!” he shouted. “You’re going to bring it here.”

“Sam, I have a plan—’’

“That’s exactly it! Your son is dying and you have a plan to try and kill this demon!”

A type of electricity bolted through Emily’s body, making her shiver again.

_Dean?_

“Do NOT tell me how I feel! I am doing this for Dean!” John shouted back.

“How? By killing this demon? Dad, revenge isn’t going to help him. You’re not thinking of anyone but yourself and this selfish obsession!”

Emily curled her fists. “Sam, you’re putting words into his mouth!”

“Oh my god.” Sam looked at her, appalled. “Don’t tell me you’re supporting this.”

“I’m not saying that at all, you aren’t understanding the situation here!” she argued.

“You know, it's funny, I thought it was your obsession too! This demon killed your mother, killed your girlfriend. You begged me to be part of this hunt. Now if you'd given the gun to your sister like I told you to, this would never be happening!” John shouted.

“It was possessing you dad, you would have been killed too.” Sam retorted.

“And your brother would be awake right now.” John’s stare was like a bullet.

The electricity flowing through Emily’s body was getting stronger. Looking around, she didn’t see anything or anybody. However, her senses were tingling and on edge.

“Go to Hell.” Sam growled.

“Sam!” Emily’s eyes widened.

“I never should have taken you in the first place, I knew it was a mistake—’’

A glass flew across the room and shattered on the floor. While distracting John and Sam, Emily hid a small smile. She was right.

_“Dude, I full on Swayze’d that mother.”_ she thought she heard.

“Dean…” she said aloud.

“What?” they both asked her.

Before she could answer, doctors and nurses sprinted down the hallway in the direction of Dean’s room. Her eyes widened and her muscles tensed. That too similar feeling rose into her stomach as she ran out into the hallway after the doctors.

“Follow her!” John ordered.

Sam needed to try to get ahead of her in an attempt to avoid having her break down. However, once he reached the doorway, he knew he couldn’t avoid anything. She was standing at what seemed to be the brink of a hurricane. Monitors were beeping rapidly as Dean seemed to be flat-lining. Sam grabbed her shoulders and tried to pull her away.

“Emily, you need to go back to dad. Right now.” Sam ordered, he himself tearing up.

Ignoring him, she continued to stand and watch. She was not leaving for anything, even though she felt like she was going to be sick.

“Alright, let’s try again. 360.” a doctor ordered.

A nurse charged the defibrillator. As she discharged it onto Dean’s chest, she saw something. The electricity seemed to form a human like figure around the bed.

“Dean?” she heard Sam whisper.

A patch of electricity was thrown out of the room and the monitors went quiet. Dean was back to regular breathing, and it seemed that the doctors were no longer required. Sighing in relief, Sam let go of his sister and backed into the hallway, allowing the doctors room to leave. Clutching her stomach, Emily raced to the nearest bathroom. There was no need for description, Sam simply waited for her out in the hallway. When she exited, hands shaking, he patted her back.

“You know that isn’t healthy.” Sam looked down at her.

She breathed in slowly. “I know. I know…” sighing, she turned to the end of the hall. “You saw it too, right?”

“You mean Dean?” he asked.

“I know, I didn’t think it was possible either. But I’ve been paying careful attention.” she began walking to John’s room.

“Of course. With your background, that doesn’t surprise me.” Sam pointed out.

“Meaning what, exactly?” she glanced behind her, looking somewhat angry.

“You’re in tune with practically everything.” Sam recovered.

“Mm.” she kept walking.

_You’ve seen so many people die, it’s no wonder you’re in perfect sync with ghosts._ Sam thought.

Once they reached John’s room, he met them with a concerned look. “Well?”

“He was flat-lining, but he recovered from it. He’s fine now.” Sam answered.

“What’s wrong with you?” he asked Emily, who looked a bit sunken eyed and pale.

“I threw up.” she smiled sarcastically.

“Anyway, dad, when he was in that tough spot…” he looked at Emily. “We thought we felt something.” Sam explained.

“What do you mean you felt something?” John asked.

“I mean it felt like, like Dean. Like he was there, just out of eyeshot or something. I don't know if it's my psychic thing or what… But do you think it's even possible? I mean, do you think his spirit could be around?” Sam began to pace.

“Anything is possible.” John answered.

Sam made a beeline for the door. “Only one way to find out.”

“Where are you going?” John asked.

“Gotta pick something up.”

“You aren’t taking your sister with you?” he rose an eyebrow.

“I’d rather die than ride in a car right now.” she sat in a chair.

“Sam, before you go.” John stopped him. “I promise, I won’t hunt that demon until we know that Dean is okay.” he nodded in his direction.

As Sam left, he made a happy nod. Emily looked at John and gave him a smug smile, tilted her head back, and looked at the ceiling.

“You lying mother fucker…”

 

About thirty minutes passed, and in that time, Emily had shifted from John’s room to Dean’s once again, only this time, she was sitting in a chair. Holding his hand carefully, she began to sing.

“These whereabouts unknown, please know you can come home…it’s alright… I long for the moment, our silence is broken…it’s alright, it’s alright, it’s alright…” she whisper-sang.

_“It’s interesting that you believe singing to him will make him wake up.”_  a voice in the back of her head told her.

“I suck at singing…but it’s that band you’ve never heard of… You know, Rise Against? That was from ‘Whereabouts Unknown’…I feel like it suits the occasion.” she wasn’t sure who or what she was talking to.

As she finished talking, Sam lurked into the room holding a paper bag against his chest.

“Sam, it looks like you’ve just smuggled drugs into the hospital.” she said bluntly.

“Ha ha, no.” he frowned. Clearing his throat, he looked around. “Hey, uh, I have a feeling you’re around, and if you are, don’t make fun of me for this, but there’s only one way we can talk.”

Emily nestled Dean’s hand back to the way it was. Hiding a smile, she saw him take a Ouija Board out of the bag.

“Oh my god, Sam.” she laughed as he sat down with it.

“What? It’s true.” he stuck his hands on the pointer.

Rolling her eyes, she sat down with him and placed her hands as well.

“Alright, Dean? Dean, are you here?” Sam said to the open air.

Emily felt a cold move across her hands. Surely Sam had felt it as well. The pointer slowly moved to “yes” on the board. Sam gasped and Emily giggled.

“I feel like I’m at a slumber party.” she mused.

“It’s good to hear from ya, man. I don’t know if you can tell, but we’re pretty stressed out.” he was quiet again as the pointer began moving.

“H…U… Hunt? Hunting? Dean, are you hunting?” Emily soon became very serious.

The pointer slid to “yes” again.

“What is it?” Sam asked.

“R…E…A…P…” Emily gulped. “A reaper.” her and Sam exchanged glances. “Dean, is it after you?”

The pointer slid to “yes”.

“If it’s here naturally, you can’t stop it.” Sam said aloud. “Dude, you’re screwed.” he took his hands off of the pointer and began pacing around. “No way, there’s gotta be another way. Dad’ll know what to do.” he dashed out of the room.

Emily sighed. “Promise not to tell anyone about my shitty singing?”

The pointer slid to “no”.

“Aw, come on, man!” she frowned.

Only after five minutes, Sam returned with their journal. “Yea, hey, so dad wasn’t in his room.”

“What? Where is he?” she asked, letting go of the board.

“I don’t know, but I got his journal. I bet there’s something in here.” he sat on the edge of the bed.

As Sam leafed through the journal, he occasionally glanced up at Dean’s body. While he did that, Emily resumed her position at the bedside chair, resting her chin on her fists.

“Let’s see…let’s see… Reapers can manipulate human perception to ease the choice of moving on to the other side. When body is close to death, absorbs the soul and acts as a transportation to heaven.” he sighed. “Doesn’t say anything about killing one.”

“Well, you can’t kill death.” Emily tapped on the side table. “I think I know what to do.” she stood up. “You stay here and keep looking. I’ll be back.”

She jogged out of the room at a leisurely pace. “Don’t you dare die on me, Dean. You still need to tell me everything you know about what Marcus told you. You promised me…you promised…”

Following her nose, she was led to the Boiler Room. Before she could place her hand on the door, she was met with John. They exchanged stares and could understand what had just happened.

“Did you make the trade?” she asked. “Gun for Dean?” she whispered as if her brother could somehow hear.

He hesitated. “Not really, Emily.”

She was taken aback. He had used her name in a sincere, non-threatening way.

“Dad…what did you do?” she looked at his bleeding hand and his pale skin.

“I made a trade. But you need to do me a favor.”

“I figured, now what is it?”

“First…I need you to not tell Dean when he wakes up. He would never forgive himself. You can’t tell Sam, either. I know we’ve already made this agreement, but it’s for your relationship with them. They’d be furious if they knew you were in on it. Second…I need you to listen to what I have to say to you.”

 

Emily had heard the commotion from Dean’s room and had rushed back to the delightful surprise of his consciousness. Beaming, she hugged Sam as the doctors removed the tubes from his body.

“Sam, he’s okay!” she looked up at him.

“It’s a miracle.” she heard the doctor say. “The edema’s vanished, no signs of bruising, your vitals are all fine. Son, you’ve got some sort of angel watching over you.”

“Thanks doc.” Dean breathed a sigh of relief.

Once the doctor left, Emily hugged Dean tightly. “Welcome back, Dean…”

“Hey there, Junior Mint… Glad to see you’re okay…” he patted her back. “So what’d I miss?”

“There was a Reaper after you, buddy.” Sam clued him in.

“A Reaper?” he blinked. “How’d I ditch it?”

“Do you remember your uh…out of body experience?” she let go of him.

“It’s a total blur. But seriously, how’d I ditch it?”

“We have no idea, Dean.” Sam explained. “All of a sudden you were just awake. How do you feel?”

“Off.” Dean furrowed his brows. “There’s this pit in my stomach telling me there’s something wrong.”

As John knocked at the doorway, Emily stepped back and allowed him the space he needed. He walked over to Dean’s bed and smiled.

“Hey dude, how you feeling?” he asked.

“Fine. I’m alive, I guess.” Dean shrugged.

“Where the hell have you been?” Sam asked aggressively.

“Relax Sam, I had to catch myself some air.” John defended himself.

“Did you go after the demon?” Sam asked.

Emily felt hurt as she saw everybody fight.

“Sammy, please, can we not fight right now? Any time we argue, I have no idea what it’s about, we’re just butting heads. Sammy, I know I’ve made some mistakes, but I always tried the best I could. I just don’t want to fight anymore.” he pleaded.

“Dad, are you okay?” Sam asked.

“Yea, Sam, I’m just tired. Could you do me a favor and get me some caffeine?” he smiled.

“Yea…sure.” Sam left for the café, still frowning.

When he was gone, Emily remained an invisible force, waiting.

“What’s wrong?” Dean asked John.

“You know, when you were a kid, I'd come home from a hunt, and after what I'd seen, I'd be, I'd be wrecked. And you, you'd come up to me and you…you'd put your hand on my shoulder and you'd look me in the eye and you'd... You'd say "It's okay, Dad"” John smiled sadly. “Dean, I’m sorry.”

“What?” Dean asked, confused.

“You shouldn’t have had to say that to me, I should have said it to you. You know, I put too much on your shoulders. You took care of Sammy, you took care of me, and even now, you’ve taken care of your sister. Through all of that, you didn’t complain once. I wanted to say that I’m so proud of you.”

“Is this really you talking?” Dean asked, confused.

“Yea. Yea it’s me.” he nodded.

“Why are you saying all of this?” Dean looked scared.

Emily looked down and away. _You were there with Marcus and I. You know why, Dean._

“Take care of your siblings.”

“Dad, you’re scaring me.”

“Don’t be scared, Dean.”

Emily watched as John whispered something into Dean’s ear and watched as Dean’s face changed. He looked at his dad in shock as he smiled and walked out of the room. Emily placed her hand on his shoulder and gripped it tight. He looked up at her, she gave him a false smile.

_“Second, I need you to listen to what I have to say.” John said._

_“Yea…alright. What is it?”_

_“When I first met you with the boys, I was in absolute denial. I refused to accept you as my daughter. Even now, I’m skeptical. But you know what? I see myself in you. You’re daring and you’ve got guts. And I know you’ve been taught by the best, whoever that may be. And I know…I know you never met your mother, Emily, but you’re radiating with her intelligence, her sarcasm, and her beautiful eyes. I know, standing here right now, that I owe you an apology. You’ve saved my ass a hoard of times and not once have I thanked you. All this time, I’ve fought you. Now that I know what I know, I know that here, in front of me, is my daughter.”_

She watched Sam walk past the room with a cup of coffee.

_John…I appreciate what you said to me._

Sam’s screams could be heard down the hallway as he approached John’s room. Dean bolted up from the bed, Emily following him at the heels.

_We fought the entire time. You wanted to kill me as much as I wanted to kill you._

Doctors and nurses flocked into the room, pushing Sam out and asking Dean and her to remain outside. She saw her dead father on the floor.

“Please! Let us in, that’s our dad!” Sam cried. “No, no, no! Dad!”

_I would say thank you._

“Okay, everyone. Let’s call it.” a doctor halted resuscitation.

“Dad…” Dean croaked.

“Time of death: 10:41 a.m.”

_But you wore that smell your entire speech._


	12. Literally, Screw Carnivals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the death of John Winchester, Emily is concerned about how her brothers are handling it. Acting on a case that was close, one that low-key scared Sam, the siblings headed for a carnival. Some clowns and plenty of regret later, Emily discovers Dean's true feelings about the loss of their dad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: Alfundo, the name I use for the clown in this chapter, was actually the old mascot for the amusement park I work at in real life.

**Three Days Later**   

          With the moon overseeing their actions, the trio stood in front of a funeral altar with flames rising into the sky. Emily stood in the middle with her brothers beside her. Dean hadn’t said a word to her since they saw John, dead, in the hospital. She was scared he had realized that she knew of John’s intentions the whole time, and that he was mad at her for it. On the other hand, she thought, he was just reacting like she had when she saw her own father die. Either way, she was concerned for Dean’s welfare. Sam was reacting more openly, showing his tears and talking about it…as much as he could. Watching John’s body burn made her realize that they allowed her there to watch. They, all together, were a family, watching their father be burned. All three of them had been silent for the entire ordeal, but Sam finally spoke.

            “Dean…before he…” he swallowed, “Before, did he say anything to you? About anything?”

            Emily looked at Dean with Sam, waiting for an answer.

            It took him a moment, he didn’t look at either of them. “No. Nothing.”

            Staring into the fire, she didn’t have any clear emotion, because even after all the work of trying to love him, she still felt that he was never her true father.

 

**Bobby’s Auto Lot, One Week Later**

            It was hot and somewhat exhausting to be alive. Emily was outside with a plate of sandwiches and overseeing Dean fix the Impala, munching on a tuna with lettuce sandwich. Only his legs were sticking out and car parts could be heard clanking and clunking.

            “I made some sandwiches, Dean. I figured with all the work, you’d be hungry.” she shrugged.

            “Will I get food poisoning?” Dean grunted from under the car.

            “OKAY I burn some scrambled eggs ONE TIME and you gotta hound my ass for the rest of my life.” she kicked the ground while placing her emphasis.

            “Thanks but no thanks, Junior Mint. But you can save one for me when I’m done here.”

            As she sighed, Sam walked onto the lot with a neutral expression on his face, but once he saw a ham and cheese, he smiled and snagged it off the plate.

            “How’s the car coming along?” Sam asked, biting into the sandwich.

            “Slow.” Dean answered.

            “You need any help?”

            After a loud clunk, Dean answered. “You under a hood? I’ll pass.”

            “Well, you need anything else?” Sam continued to eat.

            Emily knew Sam had brewed up something when Dean pushed himself out from under the car. She continued to eat while Dean stood up.

            “Stop it, Sam.”

            “Stop what?” Sam swallowed his food.

            “Stop asking if I need anything, stop asking if I’m okay. I’m fine, I promise.” Dean looked like he was trying not to get agitated.

            “Well okay, but Dean… We’ve been at Bobby’s for a week and you’ve never brought up dad once.” Sam was now done with his sandwich.

            “You know what? You're right. Come here. I'm gonna lay my head gently on your shoulder. Maybe we can cry, hug, and maybe even slow dance.” Dean said sarcastically.

            “Don’t patronize me Dean. Dad is dead. The Colt is gone, the demon is most likely behind all of this, and you’re acting as if nothing happened!” Sam protested.

            Emily wanted to put a word in edgewise, but she decided against it. It may have been her family, but it wasn’t her place. Not this time.

            “What do you want me to say?” Dean argued back.

            “Just say something, alright? Hell, say anything! Aren’t you angry? Don’t you want revenge? All you do is sit under this car all damned day!” Sam began shouting.

            “Revenge, huh?” Dean smirked.

            “Yea.”

            “Sounds good. You got any leads on where the demon is? Making heads or tails of any of Dad's research? Because I sure ain't. But you know, if we do finally find it - oh. No, wait, like you said. The Colt's gone. But I'm sure you've figured out another way to kill it. We've got nothing, Sam. Nothing, okay? So you know the only thing I can do? Is I can work on the car.”

            “Sam, he has a point.” Emily finally spoke.

            “I suppose he would if I hadn’t found something.” Sam remarked, pulling out a cell phone. “It’s what I came out here to tell you. It’s one of dad’s.” he smiled. “I cracked the voicemail code. Listen to this.” he put the phone on speaker.

            _“Hey John, it’s Ellen. Again. Look, don’t be stubborn; you know I can help you. Call me.”_

            “That message is four months old.” Sam said.

            “Dad saved that chick’s message for four months?” Dean asked.

            “Who’s Ellen?” Emily asked.

            “No idea, but I traced the number and found an address.” Sam gave them a thumbs up.

            “Ask Bobby if we can borrow one of his cars.” Dean clapped his hands together.

            “I’ll bring the sandwiches!” Emily smiled while looking at the not-yet-empty plate.

            “I said I’d pass—’’

            “Bitch I made a whole plate of sandwiches and you are not wasting them, I’m bringing the fucking sandwiches.”

 

**In a Shitty Minivan**

          While the boys were in the front, Emily was squished in the back with some bad smells and car parts. The sandwiches were gone, so an empty plate sat on the seat beside her.

            “I feel like a friggin’ soccer mom.” he grumbled.

            “Why, because of me being a younger sibling or because it’s a minivan?” she asked.

            “Both…” he mumbled quietly.

            “Well, it was the only thing Bobby had running.” Sam patted his shoulder.

            “And we ate all the sandwiches, so I’m perfectly content.” she tried to stretch out on the seat.

            They pulled up to a Roadhouse Saloon, it looked empty and run-down. However, that didn’t seem to be the case as they saw clean tables through the windows. Dean shut the engine off and all of them left the vehicle. Emily stretched and cracked her back.

            “Augh, that hit the spot.” she was more comfortable now.

            Walking up to the front doors, Sam peered in the windows and saw nobody. He quickly checked around the building and there was no sign of anybody back there either.

            “Did you bring the uh…” Sam tossed Dean a lock-pick. “Thanks.”

            “You want me to keep watch out here?” Emily offered.

            “That’d be nice. I’ll give you the thumbs up when it looks all clear.” he unlocked the doors.

            “Alright. I’ll be out here if you need anything.” she gave them a thumbs up while watching them walk inside.

            Sam and Dean walked inside of the Roadhouse, Emily watching through a window. They found a man asleep on the pool table, who they tried getting awake, but nothing worked. It seemed the brothers exchanged some words before splitting up. Sam went back into the kitchen, it seemed, while Dean continued in the main room. Emily noticed a figure go up behind Dean in the corner of her left eye. Gasping, she moved the bandana tied around her waist, revealing her gun. Pulling it out, she waited for Dean to give a signal. The aggressor was a blonde girl, holding a rifle now up against Dean’s back. Dean spun and grabbed the rifle, which caused Emily to lose any form of panic, but when she punched him in the nose and took it back, she came through the doors.

`           “Dean?!” she ran in, gun in hand.

            “A little help here!” Dean pleaded.

            The girl with the rifle turned and pointed it to Emily now, also going back to Dean if he moved.

            “Where’s Sam?” Emily asked, keeping eye contact with the girl.

            As if on command, Sam walked through the kitchen doors with a gun to his own head, a woman pushing him along.

            “I can’t help ya, I’m a little…tied up…”

            “Wait a second.” the woman spoke. “Dean? Sam? Winchester?”

            “Yea.” the brothers answered. Dean motioned to Emily. “And sister.”

            “Well son of a bitch.” the woman lowered her gun.

            “Mom, you know them?” she kept her eye on Emily’s gun.

            “Yea, these are John Winchester’s kids.” she smiled.

            Emily put her gun away, walking forward. _Shit, do I need to explain myself to these people too?_

“I’m Ellen.” she smiled. “And this is my daughter, Jo.”

            Jo lowered her rifle. “Hey.”

            Dean waved. “Hey. You’re not gonna punch me again, are you?”

            Ellen went behind the bar to fetch a rag filled with ice. When she came back, she handed it off to Dean.

            “Here you go.”

            “Thanks.” he pressed it to his face. “You called our dad, said you could help. Help with what?”

            “Well, the demon of course. I heard he was closing in on it.” Ellen seemed appalled he’d ask such a question.

            “What, was there an article in Demon Hunters Quarterly that I missed out on?” Dean replied.

            “Dean.” Emily tried to interject.

            “Who are you? How do you know about this?” Dean questioned.

            “Hey, I just run a saloon. But hunters are known to pass through now and again, including your dad. John was like family once.” Ellen explained.

            “Well, how come he never mentioned you?” Dean asked.

            ‘‘I don’t know, you’d need to ask him that.” Ellen replied, somewhat offended.

            “Well, why do we need your help?”

            “Dean, come on now.” Emily whispered at him. “She’s just trying to help.”

            “Hey, don't do me any favors. Look, if you don't want my help, fine. Don't let the door smack your ass on the way out. But John wouldn't have sent you if...” she stopped, looking at how Sam turned away. “He didn’t send you.” Emily and her brothers exchanged looks. “He’s alright, isn’t he?” Ellen went from hardened mom to soft in a manner of seconds.

            “No.” Sam answered. “No, he isn’t. We think it was the demon, it got to him before he got to it I guess.”

            “I’m so sorry.” Ellen apologized.

            “It’s okay. We’re alright.” Dean answered for them all.

            Emily snuck a look while Ellen continued talking.

            “Are you sure? I know how close you and your dad were.”

            “Listen, lady, I said I’m fine.” Dean replied irritably.

            “Dean I’m going to fucking kick your ass.” Emily whispered as Ellen turned to Sam. “This woman is just trying to help us and you’re being inconceivably rude. Knock it off.”

            “Who are you, my mother?” Dean whispered back angrily.

            “We could use all the help you can give us.” Sam said.

            “Well, we can’t help you.” Ellen put her hands on her hips. “But Ash can.”

            “Ash?” Emily asked, side convo with Dean over.

            Ellen nodded. “ASH!” she shouted to the man on the pool table.

            Flailing, the man sat up, snorting, surprised. “Is it closing time?”

            “That’s Ash?” Dean asked.

            “Mm-hmmmm. Ash is a genius.” Jo chimed in.

            The siblings were invited to sit at the bar, while Ash got himself put together. Jo went behind the bar and began pouring glasses of water. Dean opened up his jacket and pulled out a big brown folder, slapping it on the table.

            “You’re kidding me. This guy ain’t a genius, he’s a Lynyrd Skynyrd roadie.”

            “I like you.” Ash replied.

            “Thanks.” Dean smiled.

            “Just give him a chance.” Jo said while sliding the water to each of them.

            Opening the folder, Dean sifted through the papers quickly, making sure everything was there.

            “This is a year of our dad’s research, see what you can make of it.” Dean said, sliding the folder to Ash.

            Emily looked at her water glass while Ash looked through the papers. Marcus had hunted demons differently, so Emily didn’t necessarily agree with John’s methods. But she assumed John’s way was the way things were gonna fly from now on, especially now that Dean’s going to want to keep on trucking how John did. That’s what it seemed like anyway.

            “So Ash, can you track it or not?” Sam asked, pulling Emily back to the discussion.

            “Yea, with this, I think so.” he organized the papers neatly. “Just give me…fifty-one hours.”

            “That’s oddly specific.” Emily sipped some water.

            “That’s right, kid.” he got up off the barstool.

            “Hey, Ash.” Dean said. “I uh…dig the haircut.”

            “Thanks man.” Ash swished his mullet. “Business in the front, party in the back.”

            As Ash left the room, Jo came to the front of the bar and winked at Dean along the way. Feeling the flirtatiousness, Emily just scooted to Dean’s old stool, now that he went to follow his admirer. Sam hadn’t even touched his water, he seemed more focused on something behind the bar.

            “Hey, Ellen, what is that?” Sam asked.

            “This? It’s just a police scanner, we keep track of—”

            “No, no, no, the folder.” Sam cut her off.

            “Oh, it’s just a case for a friend. I was gonna give it to him, but hey, if you want, you can look at it.” she tossed him the folder.

            As Sam opened the folder, Emily leaned in to read the papers with him. Naturally, he slid some of the papers to her for her to read.

            “Couple murdered, child left alive.” she read aloud. “Jesus…”

            “Medford, Wisconsin. How long does it take to get there from here?” Sam asked.

            “You’d have to talk to the designated driver.” she gestured to Dean, who was talking with Jo.

            “Hey Dean.” Sam called. “Come here for a sec.”

            Hearing Dean grunt, she turned to watch him walk over. “What’s up?”

            “A few murders, not that far from here that Ellen caught wind of. Sounds like a case.” Sam explained.

            “Yea, so?” Dean replied.

            “We’ve got fifty-one hours.” Emily hopped off her stool.

 

 

**Highway, Several Hours Later**

          “When you said ‘not far from here’, I figured you meant in-state.” Dean grumbled while driving.

            “Well, let’s just get this done and move on, okay?” Sam sassed while on his laptop.

            Emily wasn’t so thrilled about how the seat she was sitting in supported her back, but that was all they had to drive in. Her lumbar wasn’t doing so hot after hours on the highway.

            “What does the research say, Sam?” Emily asked, trying to get her mind off of her back.

            “Well…” he cleared his throat. “It says the child let a clown into her home when it showed up at the door…she said it followed her home from the carnival. It then allegedly killed her parents in bed.”

            “A killer clown?” Dean asked, dumbfounded.

            “You’ve got to be kidding me.” Emily answered.

            “Yea. Left the kid completely unharmed, but it killed the parents. Ripped them to shreds, actually.” Sam reported, brows furrowed.

            “And the family was at the carnival that night?” Dean asked, eyes focused on the road.

            “Yup. Cooper Carnivals.” Sam nodded.

            Shuddering, Emily felt a cold sweat bead on her forehead. Carnivals gave her the heebie jeebies.

            “How do we know we’re not dealing with a crazy psycho in a clown suit?” Dean asked.

            “The cops don’t have any leads, and the carnival workers were tearing down shop. Alibis all around. Plus, the girl said the clown vanished into thin air.”

            “So the cops think it’s trauma…” Emily mumbled.

            “Well,” Dean laughed. “I know what you’re thinking, Sam. ‘Why did it have to be clowns’?”

            Raising an eyebrow, Emily peeked around Sam’s seat and smiled at him as he now looked out the window.

            “Are you scared of clowns?” she laughed.

            “Come on, give me a break.” Sam swatted her away.

            Dean started laughing. “Didn’t think I’d remember, huh? Come on, you still burst out crying at the television when Ronald McDonald comes on screen!”

            “Well, at least I’m not afraid of flying.” Sam rebutted.

            “Planes crash!” Dean defended.

            “And apparently clowns kill.”

            Emily sat back down and laughed at the bickering boys. Personally, she had never been on a plane and she also found clowns creepy. Perhaps she was the middle line, the compromise.

            “What are you afraid of, Junior Mint?” Dean looked back at her in the mirror.

            “Oh hell no. I’m not letting you exploit me for your amusement.”

            “I’ll find out, I swear.” chuckling, he turned to Sam again. “So, have these types murders happened before?”

            After the shuffling of papers while balancing a computer on his lap, Sam found the right part of the file.

            “According to the file, it happened again in 1981. Bunker Brothers Circus, same M.O. It happened three times, three different locales.”

            “If this is a spirit, it usually sticks to one place, usually. Hopping from carnival to carnival…it could be a cursed object.” she thought aloud.

            “Great, a paranormal scavenger hunt.” Sam sighed, closing his laptop.

            Now seemingly annoyed, Dean replied. “Hey, this case was your idea. Speaking of, why so quick to jump on it?”

            Knowing where this conversation was going, Emily decided to lean on the center console and take partial blame for the case, saying she didn’t feel like being bored for fifty-one hours. They both ignored her and continued their argument anyway. Slumping back in defeat, she decided to listen to another fabulous disagreement.

            “I thought you were hell-bent for leather on this demon hunt.” Dean asked.

            “I just think this is what dad would want us to do.” Sam replied.

            _God dammit, Sam. Why’d you have to say that?_

Scoffing, Dean repeated, “What dad would have wanted?”

            “Yea, so?”

            “Nothing.”

            Argument diffusing itself awkwardly, Emily asked for music. As usual, she was ignored, being forced to pull out her earbuds and listen to her own tunes. Nightly car rides were supposed to be relaxing, not filled with sibling rivalry. Emily was positive that her music was audible from outside the buds, but she no longer cared. If the boys were going to bicker at all during the rest of the ride, she didn’t want to hear any of it. Unbuckling her seatbelt, she decided to rescue her lumbar a little bit by lying down on the seat, failing due to the amount of space she didn’t have. Their ‘luxurious’ minivan didn’t accommodate the space needed for her dancer’s legs. Scowling, she realized that there was some sort of lump protruding out of the seat where her head was lying. While she readjusted herself again, she kicked Dean’s seat in the process, also knocking out one of her earbuds in time to hear him swear at her.

            “Come back to me when _your_ back hurts, aight?” she grumbled, lying down again.

 

**Morning**

At some point she must have drifted off to sleep because she was abruptly awoken by the squeaking of the brakes on a very bumpy road. With a disgruntled groan and sitting up in her seat, she saw amusement park rides and children laughing all over the place. Surely, they were in the middle of nowhere, dust rising from their tires also proving her point.

            _So nobody can hear us scream._ She sighed.

            Stretching, she felt her back pop where it shouldn’t have.

            “Whoa, that didn’t sound good.” Dean said.

            “I feel like I slept on a tire.” purposefully she cracked her back this time.

            Sam seemed to have slept like a baby. His seat was probably just fine without any ominous objects poking out of it. Having his seat be kicked by Emily’s feet, he thrust forward and rudely awoke with a snort. Dean was already out of the van, stretching and kicking the front wheels. After a quick glare, Sam emerged from the van as well. Only now did Emily take notice to their lack of official uniform. Either they were taking a whole new approach to this case or there was a new breed of laziness arising within the group.

            “No Fed outfits?” she asked.

            “Nope. Look there.” Dean gestured with his head.

            Looking to the inside of the carnival, between a Ferris Wheel and some food stands, there were already two men in suits interviewing some people. Cringing, she looked back to Dean who merely shrugged.

            “Time to old school this.” he cracked his knuckles.

            Both siblings followed their older brother, Sam hiding how squeamish he was behind his straight face and ‘rugged exterior’. Emily never understood why the staff laid down layers upon layers of hay on the ground during the carnival. Who was benefiting from all of that hay, the kids? While they walked through the carnival to get to their destination, several clowns and other carnies looked them in the eye. Sam didn’t say anything, but his sister responded with a head nod to them all.

            “Don’t they freak you out?” he whispered.

            “They smell fear, act natural.” she said in all seriousness.

            When he turned his head away, she stuck her tongue out with a smile. Fooling around with his fear was necessary.

            “I’m gonna talk with the five-oh.” Dean walked away without much else to say.

            Sighing, Sam slid his hands into his pockets. While they stood around, Emily began to whistle. Kicking the dirt around was a reminder that they were in the middle of bum-nowhere.

            “What can you whistle?” Sam asked, squinting from the sunlight.

            Narrowing her eyes in concentration, she started whistling ‘Simple Man’ by Lynyrd Skynyrd. She kept the song going until her lips got too dry, making her lick her lips uncomfortably.

            “Gross, I got spit everywhere…” she wiped her mouth with her arms.

            As she spoke, a woman about three feet tall strolled past the two of them. Rudely, Sam just stared at her while she tried waving. When the woman wasn’t looking, Emily kicked her brother in the shin.

            “Ow!”

            “That was rude.”

            Seeing his sister kick Sam in the shin, Dean made his reappearance. He looked confused, but he smirked anyway.

            “Did you get her number?” he snickered. 

            With a scowl, Sam shrugged off his brother’s taunt. His shin was recovering from his sister’s kick while his pride was recovering from being within the confines of a carnival.

            “More murders?” he asked finally.

            “Two more last night.” Dean nodded. “Apparently they were ripped to shreds. And they had a little boy with them.”

            “Who fingered the clown.” Sam nodded, listening and talking at the same time.

            Emily looked up at her brother with a strange look. Dean did the same.

            “What?” Sam asked.

            Laughing awkwardly from what Sam just said, Emily looked away again.

            Blinking, Dean continued. “Yea, a clown that just vanished into thin air.”

            “If this is a cursed object, it’s going to be like finding a needle in a stack of needles. It could be anything.” Sam sighed.

            “It’s bound to give off an EMF, we just have to scan everything.” Dean suggested.

            “How inconspicuous.” Emily commented.

            Dean looked around with clenched teeth, trying to think of a solution. Sam continued to avoid eye contact with any of the carnival workers walking around him. Hands behind her head, Emily sighed and watched the Ferris Wheel go around and around and around.

_Literally, fuck Ferris Wheels._

            “We just have to blend in.” Dean smiled.

            “And how are we going to do that?” Emily asked, Dean walking past her and towards a telephone pole.

            Dean smacked a paper on the pole. “Help wanted.”

            Sam and Emily exchanged glances, both of them having the same thought. Dean laughed at them, walking away toward a tent. They decided to follow, Emily feeling the wave of unease radiating off of her brother.

            “He’ll get his, just you wait…” he mumbled.

            “I can’t wait.” she smiled.

            The three of them walked into the targeted tent. Upon entry, they watched as a well-dressed older man throwing knives at a specified target. Emily was quite impressed. Dean approached the man, who was standing on a step stool for more height.

            “Excuse me, have you seen Mr. Cooper?” he asked nicely.

            The man turned around, he was wearing sunglasses. “What is that, some kind of joke?” he asked, offended.

            The siblings lost their smiles, those who were wearing them.

            _Oh my god, tell me he’s not…_

            The older man removed his glasses to reveal his pale white, glass-like eyes.

            _Oh god he is._

“Oh god, I’m, I’m sorry—” Dean tried.

            “You think I wouldn’t give my eyeteeth to see Mr. Cooper? Or a sunset? Or anything at all?” the man asked irritably. 

            Backing away, Dean looked to his siblings for assistance.

“A little help here?!” he whispered.

Sam shook his head.

A very short man entered the scene and cleared his throat, his eyebrow twitching impatiently.

“Is there a problem here?” he asked.

“Yea, this guy hates blind people!” the older man exclaimed.

Emily tried as hard as she could not to smile guiltily. He was getting his, all right.

“No, no I don’t, I just—” Dean struggled.

“Buddy, what’s your problem?” the short man asked defensively.

“I think there was just a little misunderstanding…” he smiled, trying to dig himself out of his own grave.

“LITTLE?! You son of a bitch!” the small man stomped angrily in their direction.

“No, no, no, no!” Dean shouted. “Can someone just tell me where Mr. Cooper is?!”

Emily couldn’t hold it in anymore, and neither could her brother. The two of them started laughing while their brother was apprehended by carnival workers.

“Please?!”

 

**Mr. Cooper’s Trailer**

When the trio finally located Mr. Cooper’s trailer, which was decorated to look like a quaint office, Mr. Cooper himself, an older gentleman, guided them inside.

“You three are choosing one hell of a time to join. Take a seat.” he told them.

There were only two chairs, but the boys seemed to be fighting over the normal looking chair while Mr. Cooper had his back turned. The other chair was pink, smaller, and had a clown on it. Dean won the struggle over the regular chair, taking his seat victoriously. Sam offered Emily the chair, but she declined with a smirk. Sighing woefully, Sam sat in his clown chair. Lingering behind them, she straightened up her posture when Cooper sat down and faced them.

“We’ve got all kinds of local trouble.” Cooper folded his hands on his desk.

“What do you mean?” Dean asked.

“Oh, a couple went and got themselves murdered. The police always seem to start here first.” his voice lowered, but then he changed the subject. “So, have you ever worked the circuit before?”

“Yes sir, through Arkansas and Texas last year.” Sam lied.

“Doing what? Ride jockies, ANS men?” Cooper asked, skeptical.

“A little bit of everything I guess.” Dean smiled.

_Oh my god._ Emily shook her head to herself.

“You lot have never worked a show in your lives, have you?” Cooper raised an eyebrow.

Emily chimed in. “Nope, but we really need the work.” she smiled.

“And Sammy’s got a thing for the bearded lady.” Dean winked.

At that, Sam shot Dean a glare. Cooper didn’t laugh. He pointed to a picture frame on his desk.

“You see that picture? That’s my daddy.”

“You look just like him.” Sam smiled and nodded.

“He was in the business. Ran a freakshow. Till they outlawed them, most places. Apparently displaying the deformed isn't dignified.” he shrugged. “So most of the performers went from honest work to rotting in hospitals and asylums. That's progress.” he grunted. “I guess. You see, this place, it's a refuge for outcasts. Always has been. For folks that don't fit in nowhere else. But you two? You should go to school. Find a couple of girls. Have two point five kids. Live regular.” he sat back in his chair.

_Two point five? Two is enough, I don’t require just an arm…_

Before Dean could speak up, Sam leaned forward and stared down Cooper with a serious expression.

“Sir? We don’t want to go to school. We want this.” Sam grinded his teeth.

Looking down at Sam, then back up at Cooper, Emily shook her head as if there was a misunderstanding. Cooper nodded his head as if impressed. Dean looked at Sam as if he was crazy, Emily doing the same if Cooper wasn’t addressing her in any way.

After Cooper gave them their assignments, they were given a schedule and released from his trailer. As usual, the boys had a moment between each other while Emily was left to follow. Dean seemed to be nodding as if trying to understand something.

“Huh.”

“What?” Sam asked.

“That whole, uh, I don't want to go back to school thing. Were you just saying that to Cooper or were you, you know, saying it?” Dean saw him hesitate. “Sam?”

_Oh god, here we go again._

“I don’t know.” Sam replied.

“You don’t know?” Dean raised an eyebrow. “I thought that once the demon was dead and the fat lady sings, you were gonna take off, head back to Wussy State.”

“Where did you go to college again?” Emily asked.

They ignored her. “I’m having second thoughts.”

“Really?” Dean was genuinely surprised.

“Yea, I think.” Sam sighed. “I think dad would have wanted me to stay with the job.”

Emily sighed. “God damn, you were doing so well…” she whispered.

“Since when do you give a damn what Dad wanted? You spent half of your life doing exactly what he didn't want, Sam.” Dean asked assertively.

“Since he died, okay?” Sam snapped. “You have a problem with that?”

Shaking his head, Dean looked away. “Nah, not at all.”

Scratching her cheek in frustration, Emily took a look at her schedule and assignment. When she read it, she stopped walking. The boys noticed and turned to look at her.

“Something wrong, Junior Mint?” Dean asked.

“Who is…Alfundo the Clown?”

 

Much to her demise, several trips to the maintenance trailer informed her that Alfundo was a mascot costume. A mascot costume that was nearly too small for her height, and a costume heavy enough to drown her in sweat because of lack of ventilation. The mascot head, removable when needed, was terrifying, a smile stretching across the clown’s face with a big red nose and white face paint. She was given multicolored balls so she could attempt to juggle, but she gave the costume team a sneer.

“If I can’t juggle without a bulky suit, how am I expected to juggle _with_ one?”

The costume crew shrugged and made her put on the suit over her clothing. If the heat wasn’t already bad enough, it was about to get ten times worse. She waddled out of the maintenance trailer without, somehow, maiming herself, and made her way to the public.

“Entertain the kids they said.” she muffled under her giant clown head, “It will be fun they said.”

In the distance, she could see Sam make his way into the Funhouse with the EMF detector. He was sure to stay clear of her for the entirety of this hunt, no doubt. Children walked past her, calling out ‘Alfundo, Alfundo!’ and questioning why she wasn’t juggling. Waving with two hands like a good mascot, she was dead on the inside.

“Emily Winchester, hunter and strategist, mingling with children in a clown costume. Love my life.”

After a good amount of time staying in that one spot, she waddled around the carnival with the costume’s arms hanging limp, using her own hands to sweep with her EMF. It may not have been the most effective, but she could tell more or less. Dean’s swearing and grouching could be heard in the distance, growing louder and louder the more she waddled in the direction of what looked like a dumpster. Dean and Sam had been hired as simple carnival clean-up crew, which she supposed was worse than waddling around in a sweaty clown suit all day. Being as quiet as she could, she snuck up behind her brother.

“WELCOME TO THE CARNIVAL! HOW CAN ALFUNDO HELP YOU TODAY?!” she shouted in a ‘clownish’ voice.

Startled, Dean jumped several feet back, trash bag flying, and got into a fighting stance, relaxing when Emily laughed at the top of her lungs, taking the clown head off.

“Emily, you scared the shit out of me!” he shouted.

Wiping her dampened forehead of sweat, she took gasps between laughs. “Your fucking face! Wait til I tell Sam you got afraid of Alfundo!”

“Don’t you dare.” he straightened up and wiped loose trash off of his orange vest.

“Just try me.” she challenged.

Before he could reply, his phone rang. Emily looked around and shielded her eyes from the sun while Dean took the call.

“Hello?”

“Turn it on speaker, I wanna hear.” she put the head on the ground.

He did, Sam being in the middle of a sentence.

“ _—spirit ISN’T attached to a cursed object? What if it’s attached to its own remains?”_

“Dude, what’s up? You sound like you just saw a clown.” Dean snickered.

_“Shut up. There’s a skeleton in the funhouse, you idiot.”_

“Did the bones give off EMF?” Emily asked.

_“Oh, hi Emily. No, but—”_

“MY NAME’S ALFUNDO!” she shouted in her clown voice.

_“GOD DAMMIT, I’M HANGING UP.”_

Laughing, Dean told Sam that they were going to meet him in the funhouse. Sam seemed irritated, but Emily didn't feel bad about it. Sam hung up abruptly as she wiped a tear from her eye, it forming from laughing too hard. As she was putting the clown head back on, she saw the blind man from earlier creep into view. Even though he seemed like just a bitter old man, something was off about him. When she made 'eye contact' with him, she waddled away, thinking that he could smell fear. She heard him speak to Dean, and she didn't know whether or not she should've intervened.

"Hang on honey, where are you goin'?" the old man asked.

_It's not like he can see me run._

Waddling faster, she escaped the area, leaving her brother to fend for himself. Navigating through the carnival-goers, occasionally stopping for parents to take pictures of a crazy clown suit, she made her way towards the funhouse where Sam was located. He was awaiting her arrival, but also expected the presence of Dean.

"The blind man found him. He might be dead."

"Not funny." he wasn't looking at her. "Take that stupid head off!"

"Fine." she removed the clown head. "So what about that EMF?"

"There wasn't an EMF, I'm just saying that--" he stopped when he saw Dean walking towards them, "What took you so long?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "Long story."

In their brief silence, they heard a child shout "Mommy, look at the clown!"

Thinking the child meant her, Emily went to lift her head back on, but Dean and Sam stuck their arms out to stop her. Seeing why, she noticed where the child was pointing. A little girl was pointing to an empty space. There was no clown where she was pointing, causing her mom to ask "What clown?". The mother pulled the girl by the arm, guiding her away and saying that there was no clown. The siblings shared glances, watching the blank space where the child was pointing.

Child's home, night

"I really think there's a tire stuffed in this seat." Emily complained, rubbing her back.

The siblings decided, unanimously, to stakeout the girl's home. If there was a murder tonight, it wouldn't be by clown.

"I can't believe you told Papazian about the homicidal phantom clown." Sam remarked with an eye roll.

"I told him a _legend_ about a homicidal phantom clown, I never said it was real." Dean corrected.

Upon his correction, he pulled out a pistol and cocked it. Sam, eyes wide, shoved it out of view.

"Put that down!"

"But hey, Sam, get this. I mentioned the Bunker Brothers killing in '81 and guess what?" Dean continued fiddling with the gun.

"What?"

"Before Cooper owned Cooper Carnivals, he was the lot manager for Bunker Brothers."

"So..." Emily sat back in her seat. "If there is anything..."

"Cooper brought it with him?" Sam continued.

"Probably." after a brief pause, Dean smirked. "I can't believe we keep talking about clowns."

After their discussion, they wasted a solid hour grunting at each other and trying to start conversations. Dean was awfully distant, and she damn well knew why. So far, they've been pretty alright with keeping off the subject of John, but it was just a simmering pot. The lid was bound to pop off some time. Dean wasn't much for words for another reason as well, he seemed to be falling asleep when he should have been keeping a lookout for the homicidal clown. Emily looked out the window in anticipation. The clown was surely going to show up, but she wished it would be soon. Another twenty minutes went by before, suddenly, the house's dining room lights clicked on. Sam shook his brother awake, and in the meantime, Emily straightened up and watched a figment come to solidity before her eyes. The phantom clown had made its appearance, as if deriving from a mist. The front door opened, the little girl smiling and being the greeter.

"It's go time." Dean, now awake, left the vehicle.

Emily and Sam followed, going around the long way of the house to come in through the back door. If the girl was going to let the clown in, the doors would be unlocked on all sides. Thankfully they were correct, the back door slid open easily. They tiptoed into the main hallway where the girl was leading her homicidal guest. Before they could be seen, they crouched down by the closet, behind the stairs, and behind the coat rack.

"Do you want to see mommy and daddy? They're upstairs." the girl smiled, taking the route right to Sam in hiding.

When they were close enough, Sam jumped out from behind the bookshelf and grabbed the girl. To their dismay, she began to scream. Rather loudly at that. Dean popped out and shot the clown in the chest, making it fall onto its back. Emily shot it again when it was standing back up, but it locked eyes with her and stood up fully. Hearing commotion from upstairs, the clown leaped out the window, vanishing in the process. Meanwhile, the girl began kicking and flailing, screaming her head off. The mother and father were making their way down the stairs, the trio looking up like punished children.

"What's going on here?!" the father shouted.

"What are you doing to my daughter?!" the mother shrieked.

Without hesitation, Sam dropped the girl and the three of them sprinted out of the house as fast as they could. Retreating to the car, Emily was hardly able to close the door before their vehicle sped off down the road.

"Now where are we going?!" she shouted, looking behind them for pursuers.

Dean swerved out of the culdasack and took the road away from the development. He didn't answer her question, only drove 20 miles over the speed limit and grunted a lot. Sam gripped his seat as if his life were in danger, and in honest truth, it might have been.

"We gotta ditch this car before sunrise, if we're caught in this hunk of shit, we're done!" Dean shouted, still in a turning frenzy.

"At least slow down! We're far enough away from the house, at least don't become an attraction to police officers!"

 

**Morning**

Dean had found a back road to park on, nestling the van in the bushes and off the drag so it wasn't too noticable. The trio unpacked their things from the trunk and carried them, walking down the road in the morning sunlight.

"You really think they saw our plates?" Sam asked, watching Dean pack the plates into his duffel.

"I don't wanna take the chance." Dean replied.

"Thing is a piece of shit anyway...damn tires in the seats...can't sleep for shit..." Emily mumbled, adjusting her backpack on her shoulders.

Without a set of sunglasses to keep her from squinting, Emily looked at the sky with a scrunched up face, covering her eyes with her hand above them. There was a twinge in her neck and she cracked it, the pop echoing a bit, but not effecting the boys one bit. There was a storm coming.

"We're definitely not dealing with a spirit." Dean started. "That rock salt hit something solid."

"Do you think it's a person? A creature that can make itself invisible?" Sam asked.

"If it dresses up in a clown costume for kicks, I'm sure that's possible. What's in dad's journal?"

"Nothing." Sam replied, pulling out his cell phone.

Emily raised an eyebrow. "Who're you calling?"

"I think that Ellen or Ash might know something." After a bit of dialing, he stopped. "Do you think Ellen and dad ever had, you know, a thing?"

Dean shook his head. "No way."

Emily shrugged.

"Then why didn't he ever tell us about her?" Sam asked.

"I dunno, maybe they had a falling out?" Dean asked, annoyed.

"He got into a falling out with just about everybody, including his own children." Emily sighed, keeping her glance away from Dean.

Casually, almost not acknolwedging her statement, Dean nodded. With an upset twitch, Sam lowered his phone, not completing the call.

"Dean, don't be doing this to me." he furrowed his brows.

"What are you talking about?" Dean turned to his brother.

"I mean this 'strong silent' thing of yours, it's crap."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Oh god."

Sam rose his hands. "Hey, I'm over it. But I know that there isn't any old reason for it, this is about dad. I know how you felt about the man."

Emily picked up her pace so she wouldn't have to get involved.

"You know what, back off, alright?" Dean snapped. "Just because I'm not caring and sharing like you want me to doesn't mean you need to keep bringing it up!" He changed his glance. "Emily, where the hell are you going?"

"Away from you guys. I'm gonna let you duke it out."

"Get back here, you don't know where you're going." Dean ordered.

She stopped, but didn't come back.

"Dean would you focus? My 'caring and sharing' isn't what this is about! I don't care how you're dealing with this, I just want to make sure you're okay. You're my brother."

Eyes wide, Dean put his hands out as if just to stop the talking altogether. "Dude, I'm okay, okay? I swear to god, if anybody else asks if I'm okay, I'm gonna start throwing punches." he looked at his sister again, who had been standing still, and huffed. "these are your issues, quit dumping them on me."

Sam asked, flabbergasted, "What are you talking about?"

Emily couldn't take the arguing anymore. However, she knew that this wasn't her argument anymore. John was dead. She was fine with it. But she knew her brothers weren't, she needed to let them work it out alone.

                        "I just think it's really interesting, this sudden obedience you have to Dad. It's like, oh, what would Dad want me to do? Sam, you spent your entire life slugging it out with that man. I mean, hell, you, you picked a fight with him the last time you ever saw him. And now that he's dead, now you want to make it right? Well, I'm sorry Sam, but you can't, it's too little, too late."

                        _That's about good..._ Emily thought, turning around to see Dean caught up with her.

                        Sam looked ready to pop. "I'm calling Ellen."

                        Emily and Dean pulled ahead while Sam made his phone call, Emily's pout not going unnoticed by her brother. He sighed and nudged her with his elbow.

                        "I didn't mean to snap at you, I'm just afraid that sometimes our fighting will make you leave us. I don't want you to be upset, I know you're affected too."

                        "Yea." she shrugged.

_Not really..._

                        "Hey, come on now." he nudged her again. "Don't you take after me. Save the silent treatment for when it really matters, huh?" he smiled at her.

                        Rolling her eyes, she smiled too. "Yea, alright."

                        "But really, Junior Mint, there's been something on my mind since Salvation..."

                        "Wow, throwback. What's wrong?"

                        "I know you said you wanted me to hold off, but the stuff about Marcus..."

                        They heard footsteps coming up from behind them, Sam finally catching up.

"Rakshasa." He told them, stuffing his phone away.

"What is that?" Dean rose a brow.

                                "Ellen's best guess. It's a race of ancient Hindu creatures, they appear in human form, they feed on human flesh, they can make themselves invisible, and they cannot enter a home without first being invited." Sam told them.

                        "Dress up like a clown and a kid will invite you right in." Dean nodded.

                        "That's terrifying." Emily shuddered.

                        "Thank you." Sam nodded in agreement. "But what I don't know is why they don't feed on the kids. Perhaps there isn't enough meat on the bones, I don't know. But for now, it makes the most sense."

                        "What else did you find out?" Dean asked.

                        "Rakshasas live in squalor, they sleep on a bed of insects."

                        "That's disGUSTING." Emily shouted.

                        Shrugging, Sam continued. "They also only feed every 20 to 30 years or so. Slow metabolism maybe?"

                        "It makes sense. I mean, the carnival today, then back in '81. And who worked both of those shows?"

                        "Cooper." Emily said. "The picture of his dad looked just like him, you said it yourself in the office, didn't you? If not, we all thought it."

                        "How do we kill him?" Dean asked.

                        "Dagger of pure brass."

                        Chuckling, Dean marched ahead. "I know exactly where to get one of those."

 

                        **Carnival, Night**

                        "Thanks again for letting me see your knives." Emily said happily.

                        The blind man whispered into Dean's ear, "I thought your sister here would be at least the normal one amongst you boys."

                        "While we're on the subject," he laughed it off, "do you have any brass knives you could show her?"

                        "Eh?" Papazian thought. "I have a lot of knives, but I don't know if I have a brass one."

                        Emily was already in the trailer, waiting for the two of them to come in. Papazian was up inside before Dean, and he tapped the trunk against the wall with his cane.

                        "Check the trunk." He told her.

                        Dean was the one to open the trunk, pausing immediately when he saw the contents inside. Emily got a good look too, and what she saw came completely out of left field. There was a red clown wig paired with a polka-dot clown suit.

                        "It's you?" Dean asked, both his and Emily's eyes on the newfound monster.

                        With a smile on his face, Papazian dropped his cane and took his glasses off. His eyes looked completely normal, then he allowed them to turn cloudy. With the flick of his wrist in a wave, he vanished. Door slamming on them, trunk slamming shut, there was nowhere for them to run.

                        "I thought it was going to be Cooper, not a master marksman!" Emily shouted, bashing against the door.

                        "And you thought I didn't?!" a knife whizzed by Dean's head. "Jesus Christ!"

                        Both applying equal force in one move, they were able to take the door down with their bodies, both tumbling out of the trailer in the process.Staggering upward, Emily looked all around her, paranoia of an unseeable enemy setting in. The footsteps running up behind her didn't help one bit.

                        "Hey guys!" Sam greeted, out of breath. "It isn't Cooper. He thinks I'm a peeping tom, but it isn't him."

                        "We know," Dean was looking around, "It's Papazian."

                        "What? Did you at least--"

                        "Get the knives?" Emily finished. "Nope, it's been that kind of day."

                        After pondering for a few seconds, Sam guided the two away. "Come on, I have an idea!"

                        Sam leading the way, the three of them sprinted through the empty carnival, careful not to slip on the hay that was littered all over the place. There was the constant fear of being knifed in the back by a mysterious appearing blade, but they made their beeline for Sam's destination. Ultimately, they seemed to be headed for the Funhouse.

                        Sam and the others sprinted through the entrance, but as they were about to group up, a door slammed between Dean and Sam, Emily being caught on Dean's side, almost crushed by the sudden door crashing down between them.

                        "Ah, shit! Sam!" Emily and Dean shouted.

                        "Find the maze!" they heard his voice on the other side. "We can meet up in the middle, hurry!"

                        Looking around, they found the maze of mirrors that Sam must have been referring to. With an incredible distaste for mirrors, especially funhouse variety, this section of the chase was the most frightening for her.

                        "My hips look huge! Aw, man, do they really look like that?!" she shouted, going around a corner.

                        "I'm not going to dignify that with a response!" Dean replied, rounding the same corner.

                        Sam appeared around that corner, weilding a pipe that seemed to have come from an organ. He didn't strike them with it, but he seemed ready to. Huffing and puffing, the duo stopped.

                        "Where is he?" Dean asked. "Like, shouldn't we see his clothes walking around?"

                        With a scream, Emily dove onto the floor while trying to dodge a flying knife. Dean wasn't so lucky, getting his sleeve pinned to the wall. Knife after knife flew by, only one more additional one pinning his wrist completely. Whilst trying to remove it, Sam held the pipe in the air, ready to strike.

                        "Sam, to your left!" Emily got up, seeing another knife.

                        The projectile whizzed by Sam's head, a successful dodge even without his sister's help. However, looking around, the target was nowhere in clear sight.

                        "I can't see him!" Emily shouted.

                        In the middle of trying to break his wrist free from the wall, Dean took notice to a lever on the wall. With his free hand, he gripped and tugged down on it. From activation, steam gushed from the pipes on the ceiling, creating a type of apparition behind Sam. His back was turned, and the form was moving.

                        "Sam, it's behind you! Behind you!" Dean shouted.

                        Without looking, Sam thrust his pipe backward, successfully making contact with an object. A fleshy object. Upon turning around, he saw blood spewing from a half-invisible creature, the pipe lodged inside of it and clearly sending it into agony. A set of clothing fell to the floor, the pipe resting on top of it. Breathing heavily, panic subdued, the two available siblings were able to release their brother from the blades that held him to the wall.

                        "I hate funhouses." Dean muttered.

                        "That's it." Emily huffed. "That's it, I'm officially afraid of clowns," she walked out the front door of the funhouse. "I'm done. I'm done, guys."

                        "Emily?" Sam asked.

                        "Let's just find a way home and get the hell away from here. Fuck carnivals, I'm done."

                        The boys looked at each other and laughed.

 

                        **Roadhouse, next day**

                   While Ellen and the boys had some beer, Emily enjoyed a plastic cup of water. Ellen praised them about how they did a good job and about how John would be proud, but Emily thought of it all as words. Sure, in the last few hours, she may have grown on the man, but she knew that in the very end, there was no room for caring about her dad. Whoops.

                        "Hey Dean." Jo sat on a bar stool next to him.

                        Not quite getting the hint at first, Sam choked on his beer, coughing with liquid entering his lungs. "Right! I, uh, Emily," he pulled on her arm. "We've gotta talk, like, over there!"

                        "Wait what?" she was pulled off of her stool. "What?! Sam!"

                        "I think he needs a minute. It's okay though." he winked.

                        "Ohhhh... Got it." she winked back awkwardly.

                        After a session of awkward water drinking, watching her brother flirt with a girl most likely way younger than him, Ash emerged from his room holding a custom built laptop. His eyes lit up when he saw them.

                        "There you guys are, I've been waiting for ya." he set his laptop down.

                        "Did you find the demon?" Dean asked.

                        Sam and Emily returned to the bar to listen in on what Ash had to say.

                        "According to my set-up," he replied, "he's nowhere around. But once that bastard rears his fugly head, my rig will go off like a fire alarm. Any omens, any patterns, anything, I'll know immediately."

                        Emily, in awe, looked at the laptop. "Where did you learn to make this?"

                        "M.I.T." he answered.

                        "My friend Kevin was dying to get into there...oh wow..."

                        "M.I.T?" Dean asked, appalled.

                        "It's a school in Boston." Ash answered.

                        "Please, give us a call if you hear anything. Okay?" Sam asked.

                        "Yea, man. Definitely. I'll keep a close eye on it, and the first thing that crops up, bam. I'll let you know."

                        Ellen offered to have the trio stay at the Roadhouse, but Dean, politely, declined the offer. It struck Emily as odd, he was turning down free residence. But it didn't take her long to realize exactly why.

 

            Bobby's Lot, The Next Day

                   "Junior Mint, I thought we had a talk about these sandwiches. I don't eat while I work." Dean muttered from under the Impala.

                        "Well, you really should. It keeps your morale up and gives you plenty of energy." chomping down on a tuna sandwich, she raised her brows as if to prove a point.

                        Shaking his head, he wiped a bit of sweat from his forehead. Cracking her back as she stood, Emily stretched and muttered something about how car stuff was all voodoo to her. Never understood it, never will.

                        "Do you at least want some more Gatorade?" she gestured to his empty bottle.

                        "Uh...yea, sure. That'd be great," he swore at the frame, "get me a yellow."

                        "You're getting whatever the hell we have." she walked off, passing Sam on the trek back. "Hey man, you want a drink? I'm getting Dean a Gatorade."

                        "Oh. Uh...nah, Em, I'm alright. Thanks though." he seemed dodgy, as if he was pondering a life choice.

                        "Be back in a jiff, Dean!" she shouted back, darting inside to raid Bobby's fridge.

                        Luckily, Bobby wasn't home, so she could get away with running into the fridge and obtaining a beverage. Just what Dean wanted, a yellow, and a light blue was inside. It was their lucky day, cause those flavors were the bomb. Closing the fridge, she skipped out, pausing when she heard Sam talking. She hid behind the door frame, anxious to eavesdrop.

                        "You were right." Sam said.

                        "About what?" Dean responded.

                        "About me and dad. I'm sorry that the last time I was with him I tried to pick a fight. I'm sorry that I spent most of my life angry at him. I mean, for all I know he died thinking that I hate him. So you're right. What I'm doing right now, it's too little. It's too late."

                        From what Emily heard, Dean didn't give him a response.

                        "I miss him, and I feel guilty as all hell. And I'm not okay. I'm not. But you aren't either, that's all I know."

                        Once again, silence from Dean's end.

                        "I'll let you get back to work." Sam walked back in the direction of the kitchen.

                        Emily acted natural, making it seem like she didn't just eavesdrop on their brotherly moment. He gave her a head nod and smile, she taking a sip from her Gatorade. When he was gone, she once again tried making her way outside, but was frightened at the sound of breaking glass. Taken aback, jumping from such a loud crash, she watched from a distance what Dean was doing. Weilding a crowbar in his hand, he beat on the Impala with screams of rage, tears welling in his eyes. He broke glass, created dents, and possibly damaged the bar in the process. Feeling tears well in her own eyes, she backed away before he could sense her presence. Tears dropped onto her hands and into her drink, bouncing off the cap of her brother's and onto the ground.Covering her mouth, she backed into the wall and slid down to the ground. However, she was grieving for more than her brother. He was turning as destructive as she had.


	13. All The Wrong, Sucky Reasons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back on the road with cases, the trio run into a vampire hunter named Gordon. Emily and Sam become concerned, believing that Gordon was major bad news. With a nest of vampires in town, the trio decide to assist Gordon's hunt...until Sam and Emily realize Dean is replacing their dead father with this new influence. Emily begins to ponder, with Dean's sudden shift of thinking, if her brothers would murder her if they discovered if she were a supernatural being. What makes things worse is the fact the voice in her head is beginning to take more control, getting the attention of her doting siblings.

**Several days Later**

       The sun was shining, the birds were singing, and the humming of a 1967 Chevy Impala could be heard all the way up the country strip. Cruising at a good 15 miles, at least, over the speed limit with their windows down was the smiling and go-lucky Winchester family. With Baby’s windows down and their hair blowing in the wind, ACDC’s “Back in Black” was blasting out into the open air and their sleeves were rolled up, happy to be in welcoming weather and good company. Dean was beaming; the tires were new and inflated, the exterior had a new coat of paint and shine, and the engine had never sounded cleaner. Emily sat in the back seat, head out the window like a puppy.

            “Whoo! Listen to her purr.” Dean exclaimed, patting the steering wheel with one hand.

            Sam laughed. “Listen, Dean. If you two wanna get a room, just let us know.”

            “WHAT?” Emily was too busy being windblown.

            “Oh, don’t listen to him Baby. He doesn’t understand us.” He rubbed the center console now.

            “Dean, stop groping your car.” Emily pulled herself back in and shut the window.

            He gave her a look through the rear-view mirror, her giving him a shrug in response.

            “You’re sure in a good mood.” Sam rose an eyebrow.

            “Why shouldn’t I be?” Dean sounded a bit defensive.

            Picking up on it, Sam shook his head and said, “No reason.”

            “Got my car, got a case.” He sighed with a smile. “Things are lookin’ up.”

            “Wow. A couple of dead cows and some severed heads and you’re mister sunshine.” Sam looked out the window.

            “I’ll remember to keep that in mind.” Emily replied sarcastically.

            “How far to Red Lodge?” Dean asked, focused on the road.

            “300 miles yet.” She replied, looking at her phone GPS.

            “Good.” Dean floored it, sending them down the road at alarming speed.

           

**Red Lodge, Montana. Mid-Afternoon**

       Standing in the corner holding a clipboard, Emily wore her fancy suit and had her hair clipped up in a very tight bun. The brothers were interviewing the sheriff, who unexpectedly was being more difficult than they originally thought he would be. The boys were slowly getting information from him, but it wasn’t enough. The only striking factor to make up for the delay was how fabulous the man’s moustache was. He looked like the Monopoly Man and she couldn’t stop staring at it.

            “The murder investigation is ongoing, that’s all I can share with the press at this time.” He smiled with an ‘okay it’s time for you to leave’ smile.

            “Sure, sure.” Sam started. “I understand that, but just for the record, you found the first, uh, head last week, correct?”

            “Mm-hmm.” The sheriff raised his brows.

            “Okay.” He flipped a notebook page. “And the other, a Christina Flannigan?”

            “That was two days ago.” He was clearly annoyed. “Listen, is there—”

            A woman knocking at the door interrupted him, who pointed to her watch. Emily gritted her teeth, the sheriff seemed relieved.

            “Sorry boys, miss intern, we’re done here, time’s up.” He started to get up from his desk.

            “Sir, please, one last question.” Sam urged.

            “Yea, what about the cattle?” Dean finally chimed in.

            “Excuse me?” he sat down again.

            “You know, the cows found dead, split open, drained... over a dozen cases.”

            “What about them?” the sheriff asked, somewhat disgusted.

            Sam gulped. “So you don’t think there’s a connection?”

            _Oh my god. This guy thinks we’re nuts._

Emily watched as the brothers and the sheriff had a good back and forth about how the cattle mutilations were probably related to cults and satanic activity. It did all seem very ritualistic, and they had honestly come here in the hopes of finding demonic activity. Her thoughts were paused when she heard the sheriff start laughing.

            “You…you’re not kidding.” He sounded shocked.

            “No.” Dean answered bluntly.

            “These cows aren’t being mutilated.” He leaned forward. “You wanna know how I know?”

            “How?” they both replied.

            “Because there's no such thing as cattle mutilation.” He semi-shouted. “Cow drops, leave it in the sun, within forty eight hours the bloat will split it open so clean it's just about surgical.” He used plenty of hand movements. “The bodily fluids fall down into the ground and get soaked up because _that's what gravity does_.” He spoke with very harsh sarcasm. “But, hey, it could be Satan.” He sighed, annoyed. “What newspaper did you say you work for?”

            Emily tightened her grip on her clipboard.

            “World Weekly News…” Dean answered.

            “Weekly World News…” Sam answered at the same time.

            _Oh my god._

“World…” Dean again.

            “Weekly World…” Sam looked at him with narrowed eyes.

            “Weekly—I’m new.” He smiled.

            _OH MY GOD._

            If it weren’t donned socially unacceptable, she would have hit herself in the head repeatedly with her clipboard.

            “Get out of my office.” The sheriff ordered.

            “Right, leaving.” Emily walked out hurriedly. She hated being yelled at by adults.

            Dean and Sam followed, both sighing. When they had left the station, they all tossed their notebooks and papers in the trunk of the Impala. Taking a second, she dragged her hands over her face, making an indescribable noise of disbelief.

            “Well, now what?” she asked.

            “We’re gonna check out the morgue, we’re sticking to the plan.” Dean advised, pulling out some white jackets.

            “You know, he thought we were insane.” Sam laughed.

            “Ah, who cares? We still got enough info about the heads. Here’s a jacket, Junior Mint.” He tossed her one.

            “Thanks.” She caught it, putting it on over her suit.

            The amount of jackets and other stuff that they’d stolen and used was amazing. They didn’t need to go out of their way as much to spend their money on disguises. All they had to do was just ‘borrow’ some attire. The trio got into the car, Dean started the engine and they were off. Emily looked out the window as they drove a little ways to their destination.

            _Dean’s dead-set, I’m pretty sure, on the fact that this has something to do with the demon._ She looked up at Dean, who was whistling with the window down. _I just hope he doesn’t get in too over his head. After the Impala…and the clown case…I don’t know what he’s thinking right now._

“All right, here we are.” He pulled into the hospital parking lot.

            Emily got out of the car and shut the door. She stood up straight and took a deep breath, it was time to fake out some dudes in a morgue. The brothers went in first, her trailing behind them as professionally as she could. The receptionist looked up, somewhat confused. Dean put on his charming smile and addressed him.

            “John.” Dean guessed based off of the name tag.

            “Jeff.” The receptionist answered.

            _Oh geez._

“Jeff, right, I know that. Dr. Dworkin needs to see you in his office right away.” Dean said seriously.

            “But Dr. Dworkin’s on vacation.” Jeff raised an eyebrow.

            Dean, dumbfounded for a moment, quickly recovered. “Well he’s back. And he’s pissed, and he’s screaming for you, man, so if I were you—”

            Jeff panicked, getting up and running out the doors, not letting Dean finish his sentence.

            “—okay.”

            “Nice.” Emily nodded.

            They casually snuck through the hallways, looking for what they had to find. Finally, they found the room, Dean leading the way.

            “Hey, those Satanists in Florida, they marked their victims, didn’t they?” Dean asked.

            “Yea, reversed pentacle on the forehead.”

            “Florida is its own creature.” Emily commented. “So much fucked up crap happens in Florida…”

            Dean pulled out a box of latex gloves and handed them each a pair. Emily made an X with her hands.

            “Nuh uh, I’m allergic to latex.” She said.

            “You’re what?” Dean blinked.

            “Yea, I am. What, haven’t I ever brought this up? Latex gives me a rash.” She crossed her arms. “I need the other kind.”

            “Then look for the other kind while we pull the body out.” He tossed the extra pair of gloves aside. “Wait a second. Allergic to latex means…”

            “Don’t talk about it.” She looked in cabinets for the other type of glove.

            “That sucks.” Sam raised his eyebrows and smiled.

            “I said don’t talk about it.” She said a littler harsher.

            Dean pulled out a female corpse that was laid out on a table, a box between its legs. Sam let out a pained sigh.

            “All right, open it.” Dean said.

            “You open it.” Sam rejected.

            “Wuss.” Dean picked up the box and carried it.

            Emily finally found the box of gloves that would suit her skin perfectly. She slid them on and cringed at the sound they made when stretching out over her fingers. She approached the table with Sam, who was grimacing at the sight of what was in the box. The girl’s head was sitting there, cleanly cleaved at the neck.

            “Well, no pentagram.” Dean observed.

            “Wow. Poor girl.” Sam said sadly.

            It wasn’t pretty. The skin was practically grey, it was clammy and disgusting.

            “Maybe we should, uh, you know, look in her mouth, see if those wackos stuffed anything down her throat. You know, kinda like the moth in Silence of the Lambs.” Dean laughed.

            Emily’s eyes widened and her smile grew, completely understanding that reference.

            “Yea, sure, go ahead.” Sam cleared his throat.

            “No, you go ahead.” Dean crossed his arms.

            “What?”

            “Put the lotion in the basket.” He laughed.

            “What?” Sam repeated, looking to Emily for guidance.

            “IT PUTS THE LOTION ON ITS SKIN OR ELSE IT GETS THE HOSE AGAIN.” Emily stated quite loudly.

            He took the head out of the box. “I don’t get it. I give up.” He stuck his fingers in the mouth. “Right, I’m the wuss, huh?”

            Sam spent a good amount of time digging around in the girl’s mouth, faced scrunched up into oblivion. Emil thought it was quite comedic, but she noticed he was hardly opening the girl’s mouth.

            “If you wanna look in the throat, you need to—” she was cut off.

            “Hey, get me a bucket?” Sam requested.

            “Did you find something?” Dean asked.

            “No, I’m going to puke.” He choked out.

            When Sam retracted his fingers, she and Dean noticed something at the same time.

            “Wait, lift up the lip again.” Dean told him.

            “What? No, you want to see me puke, don’t you?” Sam asked angrily.

            “Oh Christ, move over.” Emily pushed her squeamish brother aside and took control of the head.

            Opening the head’s mouth was similar to the fetal pig she dissected in school. She wasn’t squeamish then, so this was no different. Well. In a way it was, because this was a human mouth, a full grown woman, and in a morgue. She lifted the lips nice and wide and nodded at Dean.

            “Is that…a hole?” Sam asked.

            Dean pressed on the gum, and from the small slit in the girl’s gum, a slim and sharp tooth slid out.

            “Holy shit.” Emily whispered.

            “It’s a tooth.” Sam said.

            “That’s a fang, Sam. A retractable set of vampire fangs, you’ve got to be kidding me.” Dean sounded angry.

            _Just like I thought. He was expecting the absolute opposite._ She closed the girl’s mouth and reset the body to make it look like they weren’t there. Dean was mulling over his thoughts in the corner while Sam sighed.

            “Well, this changes things.” He shrugged.

            “Ya think?” Dean responded.

            Emily removed her gloves and threw them in the trash can. The boys were on their way out and she followed. This case was probably going to be simpler than she thought.

 

**Later, Outside a Bar, Night**

       _I hate bars. I just hate the whole scene. Why do they keep taking me to bars? What am I supposed to do here? I can’t blend in, I have a baby face.._

“No complaints, Junior Mint.” Dean shut the car off. “It’s business.”

            “I know, I know.” She sighed loud enough for him to be annoyed.

            They all left the car and put their game faces on. When Dean told her they were visiting the bar, she slid on Grant’s jacket so she would look older. Her baby face will still give her age away, but she at least wanted to look rugged. The boys led the way into the bar, Emily once again being a follower. As they entered, the bar scene was like any other, all reactions the same as the usual. Immediately, men and women alike noticed her age difference compared to her brothers. They never stop staring when this happens. Emily kept her face rigid, eyes forward and breathing steady. She couldn’t help but notice a suspicious man in the corner of the bar, a man whose eyes immediately fell below the rim of his paper when she made eye contact.

            “Did you notice too?” Sam whispered.

            “Yes.” She whispered back.

            The brothers both nodded. Finally the bar was upon them, all taking a seat on a stool. Dean made conversation with the barkeep.

            “How’s it going?” Dean asked.

            “Living the dream.” The barkeeper responded flatly. He was cleaning a glass. “What an I get for you?”

            “Two beers please.”

            “And the girl?” he asked her.

            She smiled and rose her hand to signal she didn’t want anything. Surprisingly, he didn’t make a comment.

            “We’re looking for some people…” Sam started.

            “Sure. It’s hard to be lonely.” The barkeeper responded.

            Emily’s hair on her arms was on end. As Sam handed the man a fifty in order to get information, she felt eyes drilling holes into her back. It was somewhat suffocating. The boys received their beers and asked their questions about the suspects. Apparently an old barn was just leased out, some new night owls were stinking up the bar occasionally. They drank and learned about the rowdiness of them. Again, brought up that they were severe night owls. The door to the bar opened and closed again, the pressure on her settling down.

            “Thanks.” Dean said, setting his beer down, only half finished.

            They all got up, Emily cracking her knuckles and looking over at the suspicious table. A smoldering cigarette was left behind, nothing else.

            “Do you think he heard everything?” Dean asked.

            “Probably.” She replied. “He was quite the shady mother…” she whispered.

            “Follow our lead.” Sam ordered.

            She nodded and walked with them, not quite to the side of Sam, but not quite behind either. They stepped out of the bar and walked nonchalantly around the side, into a side alley. Listening carefully, she heard footsteps. As a signal, she cracked her knuckles to give off 3 noises. The boys nodded, acknowledging her. They turned around the back of the building and quickly hid. Sam and Dean leapt over a wall to hide in shrubbery. Emily jumped up after them, but had to lie more uncomfortably. From this angle, they could see their stalker round the corner. He was a tall black man with quite the glare. He looked ready to kill if he _did_ encounter someone around the corner. He turned a few times, looking around as if to somehow detect where they went. Sam tapped their shoulders twice and they both nodded. Emily hovered her hand over her inside pocket where her gun was. When the man had his back turned again, Dean leapt out and pinned him against a wall, a knife to his throat. Sam and she were not far behind, each of them pointing their guns at him.

            “Smile.” He commanded.

            “What?” the man asked.

            “Go on, show us those pearly whites.” Dean asked again.

            “Oh for the love of—” he grumbled. “You wanna stick that thing somewhere else? I’m not a vampire.”

            Their faces phased a bit, Sam frowning the most dramatically.

            “That’s right. I heard you guys in there.”

            “What do you know about vampires?” Sam asked.

            “How to kill them.” He responded harshly. “Now seriously, bro. The knife’s making me itch.”

            Dean wasn’t having it, he didn’t let up his grip. Emily’s hands remained ready to fire, as did Sam’s. Seeing no withholding, the man raised his right arm slowly. Taking it as a threat, Sam pinned him harder.

            “Whoa, easy there, chachi.” He said to Sam.

            He raised his arm again and pulled his upper lip back. They all dared to step forward to investigate his gums. They were surprisingly normal. The boys eased their force on him against the wall and let him stretch out. Emily slowly lowered her gun.

            “Now then, who the hell are you guys?” he asked.

            They straightened up and looked at each other.

            “Winchesters.” Dean said. “I’m Dean, this is Sammy, and Emily’s over here.” He introduced her as she walked forward. She nodded as she holstered her gun.

            The man took a second when looking at her, which she was used to by now.

            “I’m Gordon. It’s a pleasure.”

            His face lightened a bit, and he told them that he was a vampire hunter. Gordon guided them back around the building and to his car, a red and stunning vessel. He opened the doors and unlocked a compartment. The trio stood there awkwardly, as they have just met this hunter and were getting chummy with him. A gigantic fixture slid out of his car, holding a large supply of weapons, all looking very ‘decapitation-ish’. She gulped.

            “Sam and Dean Winchester. I can't believe it.” Gordon beamed.

_Yep, I don’t exist. That’s okay._

“You know I met your old man once? Hell of a guy.” He didn’t notice the change in the brothers’ faces. “Great hunter. I heard he passed.” None of them said anything in response. “I'm sorry. It's big shoes. But from what I hear you guys fill them. Great trackers, pretty good in a tight spot--”

“You seem to know a lot about our family.” Dean raised an eyebrow.

“We’re learning more and more lately.” He nodded in Emily’s direction.

“What?” she blinked. “What do you mean?”

“Word travels fast. You know how hunters talk.” Gordon said.

“No we don’t.” Dean said angrily.

“People talk about me?” Emily asked.            

            Gordon looked at her for a minute, as if he were trying to connect some dots. She didn’t like that look, she had gotten it a lot. Dean and Sam had picked up on her uneasiness.

            “People talk about you all right, kid.” He made eye contact with her. “I knew your mentor.”

            Something snapped somewhere in her heart because she found herself in a cold sweat. It was odd, to hear that someone besides her had known Marcus.

            “I heard that he raised quite the hunter. A colony of them, I’ve heard, actually. I’ve heard a lot of great things. I’m so sorry.” He actually seemed sincere.

            Tears welled in her eyes and she didn’t quite know what to say. If there were rumors about her being his pupil, and how great she and the colony were, she was proud. It also made her sad, knowing that he couldn’t spread praisings like this anymore, or even hear that his teachings were paying off. Clenching her teeth over and over again, she knew she needed to remain calm.

            _I don’t need to hear this right now._

“But I also hear other things. Interesting tidbits come up now and again about a third Winchester.” He raised an eyebrow in suspicion. “How are you…” he pointed at her. “…related to them?” he slowly moved his finger to her brothers.

            “I…” she choked. “I don’t know. But I am.”

            She felt Dean pat her back for support and felt better, but there were still clouds in her heart. Like a breath of fresh air, Sam changed the subject.

            “So, uh, those two vampires. They were yours, huh?” he asked.

            “Yep. Been here two weeks.” Gordon replied, clearly proud of himself.

            “Did you check out that Barker farm?” Dean asked.

            “It’s a bust.” Gordon confirmed. “Just a bunch of hippie freaks. Although, they could kill you with that patchouli smell alone.”

            “Where’s the nest then?” Dean asked, a little twitchy.

            “I've got this one covered.” Gordon saw how offended he looked. “Look, don't get me wrong. It's a real pleasure meetin' you folks. But I've been on this thing over a year. I killed a fang back in Austin, tracked the nest all the way up here. I'll finish it.” He assured.

            Dean stepped forward. “We could help.”

            Emily looked up at him.

            “I appreciate the offer, but I’m a go-it-alone type of guy.” Gordon shrugged.

            “Come on man, I’ve been itching for a hunt.” Dean laughed in protest.

            “Dean—” Emily tried. It was no use.

            “Listen, I’m sorry. But hey, I hear there’s a Chupacabra two states over. Knock yourselves out.” He slid his arsenal away and made himself comfortable in the driver’s seat. Keeping the window down, he stuck his head out again. “It was real good meeting you though. Maybe I’ll buy you a drink on the flipside.”

            With a wave, he started his engine and drove off, leaving the three siblings alone in the darkness. Emily wiped her face and took a deep breath.

            “You okay?” Sam asked.

            “Yea, yea. I’m fine.” She smiled. “So, what’re we doing now, bro?” she asked Dean.

            “We’re going with him.” He answered, not turning around.

            “What?” she asked. “But Dean, he said—”

            “I know what he said, get in the car, both of you. We’re following him.” He made a bee-line for the Impala.

            Knowing it was no use to argue, she and Sam looked at each other and sighed. They took their respective positions in the car and Dean started the engine, driving off as soon as the doors were shut. He took down the same road where Gordon went, being careful to not get too close but not too far away either. The headlights were on the lowest setting, making it difficult to see. Dean was a persistent bastard, that’s for sure.

            “Emily, are you sure you’re okay? He said some interesting stuff…” Sam asked.

            “I said I’m okay.” She responded innocently. “Sometimes I just…don’t need to hear things. It’s interesting to know that people—hunters—talk about my family. I’m just worried that could become a dangerous source of information…” she trailed off.

            “There’s a lot of things that dad never told us…” Sam pondered as well.

            The car was eerily silent, a strange aura radiating off of Dean. It was the type of aura where she was unsure whether or not to engage him in conversation or not. Finally, the road began to change into a single lane, showing their surroundings to be a saw mill, and a fairly large one at that. Emily sat up at attention, looking out the window to look for Gordon. She spotted his car, and she assumed Dean had as well because they parked. They all got out of the Impala, armed and ready to go. Sam led the way reluctantly, but Dean hardly noticed the hesitation. As the brothers fanned out ahead of her, she remained on the tail end, hands clenched around her gun. Sam made a signal, showing that he noticed something abnormal. She and Dean rushed over to him to find that he was right, Gordon was engaging someone in activity. Dean twitched, ready to help, but Sam held him back for a minute.

            “Wait.”

            Gordon was wielding a machete, clearly his intent was to kill. The vampire was holding his own quite well, throwing in a few strikes with a crowbar. After a really good strike to the face, the vampire overtook Gordon, slamming him onto the table of an electric saw.

            “I don’t think we can anymore!” Dean said, rushing forward with Sam.

            Emily wasn’t far behind, gun in hand and keeping an eye on the vampire. He was lowering the saw on Gordon and she finally saw a clear shot. She stopped, aimed, and fired at the vampire’s knee, distracting it enough for Sam to get Gordon out of the wake of the blade of the electric saw. As Sam pulled Gordon to safety, Dean attacked the vampire with brute force. He was able to pin the vampire onto the table of the saw, eventually bringing the saw down on him, decapitating him. Blood sprayed all over Dean’s face and some of his shirt. Emily and Sam were standing with Gordon, far enough away to not receive a splatter of blood. Her eyes widened at her brother’s sudden bloodlust, and the lack of emotion on his face and in his eyes. Dean was panting, as were the rest of them, but Gordon had this strangely perky smile on his face.

            “Well then.” He laughed. “I guess I owe ya that drink.”

 

 

**Back at the Bar**

       Per usual, she was the only one drinking glasses of water. Maybe one day she would taste the ‘sensation of alcohol’, that Dean called it, but today was not that day. In fact, something that was highly peculiar, was that Sam wasn’t drinking at all. Well, he had a beer in front of him, so technically he was, but there was hardly a sip taken from it. Something was bothering him, and she got the feeling it was the same thing as her.

            _What the absolute fuck was that back there? Dean didn’t hesitate, he just decapitated that thing. And why? What was his intent besides saving Gordon in time? And his eyes…there was nothing in them. He liked it._

The waitress served Dean and Gordon another round, both of whom were laughing about the scene that took place back at the mill. Sam had this obviously sour look on his face, while Emily had the same plain look of discomfort, one that the boys were used to by now in these situations. Dean got his wallet out to pay for the next round, but Gordon stopped him.

            “No, no, I got it.” He paid the waitress.

            Dean tried to stop him as well, but Gordon was too insistent. When the waitress left, after Gordon called her ‘sweetie’, a comment which made Emily’s skin crawl, Gordon raised his glass.

            “Another one bites the dust.” He smiled.

            “That’s right.” Dean clanked his glass against his.

            When they toasted, Sam’s expression grew even sourer, if that was humanly possible. He folded his arms and sat back, letting out a type of grunt, as if to protest the meaning for the toast. Emily just drank her water.

            “Dean, you gave that big-ass fang one hell of a haircut my friend.” Gordon laughed.

            “Thank you.” Dean smiled proudly.

            “That was beautiful, absolutely beautiful.”

            “Yep.” He took notice to the siblings’ discomfort. “You all right Sammy?”

            _That’s either being said jokingly, or he’s calling him ‘Sammy’ because he’s genuinely concerned. It’s hard to tell…but I’m going for the first possibility._

“I’m fine.” Sam replied a little too harshly.

            “Well, lighten up Sammy.” Gordon replied.

            Sam’s eyes were icicles. “He’s the only one who gets to call me that.”

            “Okay. No offense meant. What about you, kid?” he was referring to Emily.

            “Junior Mint doesn’t like the bar scene.” Dean answered for her.

            _Great, now there’s two nicknames Gordon can abuse._

“Oh come on now, I was drinking when I was your age already.” Gordon asked.

            _RED FLAG, RED FLAG, RED FLAG._

“Uh.” Sam looked at her widened eyes. “We shouldn’t talk about that.”

            “Well kids, we’re just celebrating a little. A job well done.” He shrugged.

            “Right. Well, decapitations aren’t my idea of a good time, I guess.” Sam smiled bitchily.

            Gordon got a little defensive. “Oh come on, man. It’s not like it was human. You’ve gotta have a little fun with your job.” He drank some more.

            _A little fun with my job? A LITTLE FUN? This job has taken more than its fair share on our lives, Gordon. I don’t know if you can tell. Fucking bastard._

“See? That’s what I’ve been trying to tell him. Junior Mint, you too, you’ve been losing your edge. You two could learn a little thing or two from this guy.”     

            “Losing my edge?” she raised her eyebrows. “What kind of edge is that?”

            “Like when you killed—” he stopped, taking a second to think about the Wendigo. “I…uh…”

            “I bet we could, Dean.” Sam stood up. “Yea. I bet we could. We’re not trying to bring you guys down, we’re just gonna go back to the motel. You good to go Em?”

            She swallowed the last bit of her water before standing up herself, nodding.

            “You sure?” Dean asked.

            “Yea.” Sam caught the keys Dean tossed him.

            Emily waved to the two of them on the way out, trying not to make them suspect to anything unusual. Sam led the way to the Impala, sighing a good amount of times himself. He sat in the driver’s seat, his sister making her way to the passenger seat next to him. He didn’t want to start the engine.

            “I know I’ve asked this a lot tonight, but hey, are you okay?”

            “For the last time Sam, yes.” She pulled a small smile. “I just don’t like the aura that guy gives off. He’s a negative influence on Dean.”

            “I think so too.” He started the car. “Gordon is too black and white, kill or be killed. There was another way to get out of the mill, we didn’t have to kill it mercilessly.”

            “We could have used it to find the nest.” She thought out loud. “I just don’t think Dean’s here for the hunt anymore, there’s something else wrong here.”

            Sam took the Impala down the road for a while, making their way back to the motel. It wasn’t exactly five stars, hell it wasn’t even three stars, but they figured the hunt wouldn’t take too long when they learned it was a simple vampire deal and not the demon. When they had parked, they got out and went back to the room. Sam set the keys on the cute little cactus thing while Emily laid on the floor.

            “Get up from there.” Sam rolled his eyes.

            “Never.” She mumbled into the floor.

            “But you’re thinking what I’m thinking, right?” Sam asked, sitting on his bed.

            She sat up and looked up at him. “About Gordon?”

            He nodded. “He’s bad news.”

            “After the mill, there’s just something off-putting about him. I feel like he’s the big kid trying to peer pressure Dean into violence…”

            “I think he’s…” he hesitated. “Trying to replace dad’s absence with Gordon…”

            _You know what, you’ve got a point._

            “I could text a few people back home, see if they’ve ever heard of anybody named Gordon…I dunno how fast they’d get back to me though.” She pulled out her phone as a possibility.

            “I know somebody better.” He took his own out. “Someone at the center of the hunters.”

            Curious, Emily stood off of the floor and behind her brother, watching him dial a number into his phone. He set it to speaker, so they could both talk.

            _“Harvelle’s Roadhouse.”_ The voice was Ellen’s.

            “Hey, Ellen, it’s Sam Winchester.” Sam said.

            “Hi Ellen!” Emily smiled.

            _“Sam, Emily, it’s good to hear from you. You’re all okay, aren’t you?”_ she asked.

            “Yea, yea, everything’s fine, we’ve just got a question.” Sam looked around the room, as if he was being watched.

            _“Shoot.”_

“Have you heard of a Gordon Walker?” he asked. “Or ever run across someone like that?”

            _“Yea, I know Gordon.”_

“And?” Emily asked, raising an eyebrow.

            _“Well, he’s a real good hunter. Why you askin’ sweeties?”_

“Well, we ran into him on a job, and we’re just working with him I guess.” Sam explained.

            _“Oh no you two, don’t you do that.”_ Ellen warned.

            “I thought you just said he was a good hunter.” Sam asked.

            “ _Yeah, and Hannibal Lecter's a good psychiatrist.”_

Emily made a dumb smile because she understood the reference.

_“Look, he is dangerous to everyone and everything around him. If he's working on a job you boys just let him handle it and you move on.”_

“Ellen—” he was cut off.

_“No, Sam. You listen to what I’m telling you, okay?”_

“Okay.” Sam sighed.

“Thank you, Ellen.” Emily said, trying to sound cheerful.

_“Take care of yourselves now, okay?”_

“Yes ma’am.” Emily smiled.

They hung up, feeling worse now that they received that eerie warning from Ellen. It was, however, a good thing that they called her. She knew everything about everyone in the hunting world, at least those that passed through the roadhouse. Having a better feeling about who they were dealing with, Emily went to the couch and pulled her laptop out of her backpack. When she booted it up and sat down, she decided to delve a little deeper into something that Marcus had told her about once.

_I could also text Ringo, but I don’t know how responsive she is right now, I kind of need the answer quickly._

“Hey Em,” Sam’s voice made her look up. “I’m going to the vending machine, do you want anything?”

“No, I’m okay. Thanks though.” She waved, then looked down at her laptop again.

Sam closed the door behind him, which made her shoot right up and head to the bathroom right across from her.

_I’ve had to pee for hours, oh my GOD._

While she washed her hands after her business, she heard the door to the room open and close. As she looked in the mirror, she raised an eyebrow.

“Sam?” she called from the bathroom.

Not receiving a response, she dried her hands slowly.

“Sam, were there waters out there?” she called again.

When she opened the door, she was rushed by a large man who knocked the wind out of her. She backed into the wall and gasped for breath, hardly avoiding a punch to the gut. Something clicked in her mind when she got a good look at his face.

_The bartender?!_

She ran out of the bathroom and dove for Sam’s gun on the bed, but another attacker rushed her from the side, knocking her into the bed-side table. Now on her hands and knees, she looked up at her attackers and looked for a way out. She kicked her second attacker, who looked to be around 50, in the knee and scrambled upward to her feet. The only way out was the door, and she ran for it.

“SAM--!” she screamed.

Her mouth was covered and she was hit in the back of the head. Her vision went black.

 

**Sam**

“Em would hate this, all there is is soda.” He sighed as a can dropped to the slot.

He retrieved his can from the machine and cracked it open, taking a sip. On his trek back to the room, there was a tone of uneasiness hovering over him like a cloud. Frequently, he looked around him due to the itching feeling that he was being watched. He stopped for a moment, thinking that he heard something. He couldn’t tell if it was from the trees or from the room, and if it were the latter, he was unsettled. He walked up to the door and opened it slowly, turning around again for an added measure.

“Sorry Em, there was nothing you would like in the vending machine.” He turned around and closed the door.

            His sister was lying on the ground like she had been earlier. Something about it was bad.

            “Em?” he set the can down. “Emily?”

            As he approached her, a figure attacked him from behind. Fighting out of his grasp, he was easily able to knock the older man down. However, a second attacker sprang out of the bathroom as well, dueling a few punches before he met the same fate as the first. When Sam gave his sister attention again, he didn’t notice the first attacker rise.

            “Emily! Can you hear me?” he checked her skin for teeth marks. “Hey!”

            With a corded telephone, the attacker slammed Sam in the back of the head with it, causing his vision to go dark as well.

 

**Unknown Location**

            _God…what the fuck? What the fuck was that?!_

The back of her head was pounding, but it was low and dull pain. Waking up had been startling, seeing nothing but blackness and smelling a weird hint of twine over her head. Groggy and unamused, she tried moving her arms, which proved unsuccessful. They were tied tight. Even her mouth was full, there was a rag in her mouth, keeping her from calling out for help. One thing more, where was Sam?

            “Hey, you back there! Quit rustlin’!” a man said from in front of her.

            Afraid by the sudden voice, she complied and stopped trying to break free. However, suddenly she was lurched to the side, as if going over a road bump.

            _I’m in a moving vehicle…great, I’m being kidnapped._

Her heartbeat was still too fast for her liking, and there was no way of slowing it down. She remembered seeing the bartender and some other man that she didn’t know back in the motel, so if they were after her, they were after Sam too. Just when she thought there was a possibility of two different vehicles, there was another noise that caught her attention. Rustles and grunts of panic, just like hers.

            _Sam?!_

It seemed like the truck was going over a bridge, the gravelly texture below the wheels and crunching of dirt and gravel turning to the slapping of tires against wood, and that occasional ‘ba-bump’ on the wheels could be felt from below her. Yes, they were definitely going over a bridge. There was an easier turn to the left, she thought, then another turn somewhere in there, when finally the vehicle came to a surprisingly abrupt stop. Heartbeat quickening again, doors on both sides opened, and suddenly she was being yanked out of her seat and forced to walk. She tried to shove using her torso, but her attackers retaliated and told her to knock it off. She complied, being forced to climb a set of stairs, and they sounded like creaky porch stairs. A screen door opened, when suddenly she was forced to the right, presumably into a room. Breathing so heavily with a sack over her head was becoming exhausting, and she didn’t know if she was even breathing oxygen anymore. She was shoved onto a chair, her legs themselves already feeling the need to collapse without the knowledge of where gravity was, what they were even walking on. She was held snugly against the chair with rope, the restraints around her wrists still holding tight. Suddenly there was light, light that made her squint and a sudden rush of air that cooled the sweat on her face. A woman was standing in front of her, a gentle looking one. There was no way she was the one who pulled her all the way in here, which means her henchmen were in another room, possibly with Sam. Emily looked around the room. It looked to be an older, run-down house, one that was the perfect hideout for anybody trying to lay low. It kind of looked like the old homes back home, the ones out in the fields that you don’t question because it’s secluded and, well, old. The rag wrapped around her mouth was removed, giving her some relief. She didn’t scream, she just slowed her breathing down and clenched her teeth a few times.

            “You’re awfully quiet.” The woman looked surprised.

            “I uh…” Emily breathed out. “I was already yelled at twice for moving…”

            The woman smiled, but it faded quickly.

            “Who are you?” Emily asked. “Where’s Sam?”

            “My name is Lenore.” She introduced herself. “And I am a vampire.”

            Emily’s eyes widened.

            “Don’t worry, you haven’t been turned. So calm down.” Lenore reassured, as if reading her mind.

            “Why am I here?” she asked. “I didn’t…”

            “Didn’t what?”

            “I didn’t kill that guy…I just…shot him in the leg…” she gulped. “Oh man, this is revenge, isn’t it? Aw jeez…I never should have let Gordon…”

            “No, no, no.” Lenore knelt down. “This isn’t revenge at all. It’s a message, which I hope you’ll understand. You’re…very young.”

            “Hey now.”

            “Younger than I thought.” Lenore corrected. “But I want you to have my word. I’m not here to hurt you, and neither is my friend who’s with your brother. You need to understand that we aren’t a threat.”

            There was a hissing in the room to the left, along with what sounded like Sam freaking out.

            “Oh my god…” Lenore sighed. “Hold on a second.”

            She walked out of the room, and all Emily could hear was Lenore shout at someone. Oddly, she was now composed, knowing that her attacker was gentle and didn’t threaten her, and better yet, bite her. She listened to the conversation Lenore had with her brother.

            “We just need to talk.” She heard Lenore say after introducing herself.

            “Talk?” It was Sam. “Yea, okay, but I might have a hard time paying attention to much besides Eli’s teeth.” He must have been referring to somebody else.

            “He won’t hurt you either, you have my word.” Lenore assured.

            “Your word? Oh yea, great, thanks. No offense lady, but you’re not the first vampires I’ve met.”

            “We’re not like the others.” Lenore sounded a little annoyed, but still calm. “We don’t kill humans, and we don’t drink their blood. We haven’t in a long time.”

            “What is this, some kind of joke?”

            “Notice that you’re still alive.” Her voice phased a bit into anger.

            “That doesn’t mean you’re not going to kill me.” Sam challenged. “You’re going to get information out of me, and when I am ‘released’ you’re going to turn on me and—”

            “Your sister’s still alive too.” Lenore said to shut him up.

            “Where is she?!” he shouted. “Emily!”

            Emily took a deep breath. “Sam, I’m fine.” She said from her room. “I’m right over here!”

            “Go get her, Eli.” She heard Lenore say.

            After some footsteps, a tall man, who she recognized to be the bartender, appeared in the doorway. He didn’t look happy at _all._ Getting behind her chair, she suddenly felt like she was weightless, and it was very uncomfortable. He grunted while carrying her, still tied to the chair, into the other room. He set her down a bit too hard and it jarred her a bit, but she was able to nod at her brother so he could calm down. They were both safe.

            “Now that you’re both here, I don’t have to repeat myself. Is this proof enough of our harmlessness?” Lenore crossed her arms.

            “Shouldn’t you be starving to death?” Sam asked.

            “Not at all.” She explained. “We consume cattle blood.”

            “So you’re the ones responsible for the dead cattle?” Emily asked.

            “It’s not ideal.” Lenore sounded kind of offended. “In fact, it’s disgusting. But it allows us to get by.”

            “Okay, but, uh, why?” Sam asked.

            “Survival. No deaths, no missing locals, no reason for people like you to come looking for people like us. We blend in. Our kind is practically extinct.” She glanced at Eli. “Turns out we weren't quite as high up the food chain as we imagined.”

            Eli, who had been doing his best to stay quiet, looked at the two of them before speaking up to Lenore.

            “Why do we have to explain ourselves to these killers?”

            “Eli!” Lenore whipped her head around to fully look at him.

            “We choke on cow’s blood so that none of them suffer.” He gestured at them with his hand. “Tonight they killed Conrad and they celebrated.”

            “Eli, that’s enough.” Lenore warned.

            “Yea, Eli. That’s enough.” Sam repeated sassily.

            “Just for the record, I wasn’t.” Emily pleaded her case. “Sam and I, we don’t think anything that is innocent needs to die. I’m not sure what’s wrong with Dean right now, and I’m sorry about his actions, I really am. I understand what it’s like to have somebody be wrongly killed. We all do. I know you can’t forgive him, or even us, for what happened. I’m just saying…we’d never let that happen again.”

            “What’s done is done.” Lenore stated, shutting down her statement. “It doesn’t matter, because we’re leaving this town tonight.”

            “Then why bring us here?” Sam asked.

            “Believe me, I’d rather you not be here. But once you have the scent, you’ll never stop following us. It doesn’t matter where we go, hunters will always find us.”

            Emily spoke. “You’re asking us not to follow you.” Which was something she wasn’t going to do in the first place.

            “We have the right to live, just as much as anybody else.” Lenore nodded.

            “So you keep saying. Give me one good reason why I should believe you?” Sam asked, as if his living sister wasn’t proof enough.

            Lenore huffed. “I’m going to let you two go.” As they both looked at her, Sam the most startled, she commanded Eli. “Not a scratch on them.”

            The sack went back over her head, the darkness meeting her eyes once again. The restraints around her, what was keeping her to the chair, came off, allowing her to stand and be pulled outside by somebody. She assumed the same thing was happening to Sam because she heard him growling and grunting as he accidentally bumped into things. Below her feet were the creaky porch stairs, and the sudden chill of nightfall startled her for a moment. They were packed into the vehicle that brought them there and weren’t buckled in, which was rude. As they drove off, she heard Sam whisper something to himself.

            _Is he…counting?_

            As if her mind was read, he stopped.

            _There’s that bridge again. They really are taking us back to the motel. This is great news, I just hope we can persuade Dean not to go after this nest._ Her skin crawled when she thought about Gordon. _There’s no way we can convince him about this._

_“Oh come now, put those persuasion skills to the test.”_ A voice in her head told her.

            Suddenly, a flash of red hot pain drudged across her head, as if an egg was cracking and spilling pain into her skull, like lava spreading over a surface, veeeeery slooowly. She bit down hard, wishing that they had gagged them again for the way back. The pain subsided quicker than she thought it would, but when it was over, she found that she had been breathing unnaturally heavy while trying to keep herself quiet.

            _Jesus…what the fuck was that…?!_

Suddenly, the car stopped. She was pulled out, sack being removed and ties being cut, and was allowed to stand on her own to blink and take in the light from the motel windows. Sam was also freed, only his reaction being a bit quieter than she anticipated. They looked at each other. As the truck sped away, the two of them hugged each other.

            “You okay?” he asked.

            “Yea…that was just fucked up, you know?”

            Sam wasn’t letting go. “What was wrong with you in the car? And why are you so clammy?”

            _Shit, I thought he wouldn’t pick up on that._

“Oh, you know…body cramps.” she shrugged, the hug splitting after that.

            _Body cramps? Jesus Christ, Emily, no, he isn’t going to believe that._

“We need to tell Dean what happened.” Sam dropped the subject and headed for their motel room. “I hope we’re not too late.”

            Clenching her hands repeatedly while she walked helped her calm down, but it was aggravating that Sam had picked up on her disorientation. All else that she could hope for was Sam not telling Dean, but she knew that he would tattle on her and say there was something wrong. The thoughts subsided when Sam opened the door to their room to see Sam and Gordon with a map.

            “—they are, but…” Dean looked up.

            Emily popped up next to Sam in the doorframe, both with neutral yet serious looks on their faces.

            “Where have you been?” he asked Sam. “And what happened to you?” Dean directed the question at his sister.

            “Can we talk to you for a second?” Sam asked. “Alone?”

            Gordon was asked to ‘chill out’ for a couple of minutes while the siblings left their room and took their conversation to the parking lot, near the Impala. Sam and Emily exchanged a glance, as if trying to figure out who was gonna ask the big question.

            “Listen, Dean, we need to rethink this hunt.” Sam said.

            “What?” Dean was a bit more on edge than usual. “Where were the two of you?”

            “In the nest.” Sam responded.

            “What? How did you find them?” he was getting more excited. Eerily excited.

            “They found _us_ , Dean…” Emily answered.

            “Well, how’d you get out? How many did you kill?”

            Emily shook her head to say “None”.

            “What, it’s not like they just let you go.” Dean scoffed.

            “That’s exactly what they did.” Sam explained. “I don’t know where it is, I was blindfolded, in fact, we both were. All I know was that we went over that bridge outside of town. But Dean, listen, we shouldn’t go after them.”

            “Why not?” Dean’s eyebrow twitched.

            “I don’t think they’re like other vampires. I don’t think they’re killing people.” Sam told his brother.

            “You’re joking.” Dean laughed a little in disbelief. “Then how do they stay alive?” he checked his wording. “Or, undead? Whatever the hell they are.”

            “What has four legs and goes moo?” Emily asked. “The cattle mutilations, they drink animal blood.”

            He laughed again. “And you _believed_ them?”

            “Look at us Dean,” he spun around, turning Emily back and forth as well with her arms sticking out. “Not a scratch.”

            Emily looked at her brother with pleading eyes. “Dean…”

            “Wait, so you're saying...” he shook his head. “No, man, no way. I don't know why they let you go. I don't really care. We find 'em, we waste 'em.” He said bitterly.

            “Why?” Sam and Emily asked in unison.

            “What part of ‘vampires’ don’t you understand, guys? If it’s supernatural, we kill it, end of story. That’s our job.”

            Emily was hurt. “Don’t I count as supernatural?”

            “No, Junior Mint, come on—”

            “No.” she pointed at him angrily. “No, don’t you ‘come on’ me, Dean Winchester. Get your head out of your ass and think about what you’re saying, and who you’re saying it to. Do you know where I came from? No. Am I natural? Probably not. Do I deserve to be killed? I fucking hope not, don’t answer that question. But DEAN. Look at me.” She turned her body around and uncovered her arms and legs. “I’m not bruised. I’m not scratched. I’m not _bitten_. Don’t you think an easy target would be a blinded and restrained teenager? I’m younger and, honestly, weaker than Sam. I would be the prime bait and revenge-kill, for both ends, in order to stop you, Sam, and Gordon. But look at me. I’m alive, I’m okay. They let me go. Sam is okay too. These people aren’t evil, they have an equal right to live as we do.”

            “No, Emily.” Dean’s use of her name so seriously hurt her too. “Gordon’s been on these vamps for a year. He knows!”

            “You’re taking his word for it?” she asked in a defeated tone.

            “That’s right.”

            Seeing that his sister was defeated after her explanation was ignored, Sam took the control of the conversation out of her hands.

            “Ellen says he’s bad news.”

            “You called Ellen?” Dean seemed somewhat disgusted.

            Both of them nodded.

            “And you expect me to take her word for it? We hardly know her, guys, so I’m gonna stick with Gordon.”

            Before Emily could snap, Sam did.

            “Yea, like Gordon’s such an old friend. You don’t think we can’t see what this is?” he gestured to both himself and his sister.

            “What are you talking about?”

            Sam’s voice was dark. “He’s a substitute for dad. A poor one.”

            “Shut up, Sam.” Dean looked him dead in the eyes.

            That made him angrier. “He’s not even close, Dean. Not on his best day.”

            “You know what?” Dean put his hands in the air with a smile. “I don’t want to talk about this right now.”

            “You know, you slap on this big fake smile but we can see right through it.” He looked at Emily. “Because we both know how you feel, Dean. Dad's dead. And he left a hole, and it hurts so bad you can't take it, but you can't just fill up that hole with whoever you want to.”

            _And you can’t kill whatever you want to, either._ She thought.

            “It's an insult to his memory.” Sam finished.

            Dean chuckled and turned. “Okay.”

            When they all thought that the argument was going to end like that, Dean suddenly turned back around and punched Sam in the face, hard. Emily shrieked and pushed Dean away, telling him to ‘knock it the fuck off’. However, Sam didn’t take the bait to hit his brother back, he simply stood back up, straight and proper.

            “You can hit me all you want, Dean. It’s not going to change anything.” Sam wiped his nose, which wasn’t bleeding.

            “I’m going to that nest. If you don’t want to tell me where it is, I’ll find it myself.” Dean angrily walked back to the room, Emily close behind him.

            “Dean!” she shouted, trying to stop him.

            Sam followed as well, but only half as urgently. Dean ignored his sister and opened the door.

            “Gordon?”

            “He’s gone.” Emily said. “He’s fucking gone.”

            “Do you think he went after them?” Sam asked.

            “Probably.” Dean answered bluntly.

            Things were very heated at the moment. Dean was thinking in extremes while she and Sam just wanted him to look past that and come to their side. However, his bizarre fascination with Gordon was sending him askew. Sam said they needed to stop Gordon while Dean said they should lend a hand. It was painful to say the least.

            “We’ll see what happens, now gimme the keys.” Dean stuck his hand out.

            Sam gestured to the mini-cactus where he had originally set the keys, but they were missing.

            “He snaked the keys.” Sam confirmed.

            Dean stomped outside and into the Impala, grumbling and swearing the whole way. Emily grabbed her gun, which was lying on her bed, and she with her remaining brother went out to inspect the car. Dean appeared to be hotwiring the engine.

            “I can’t believe this, I just fixed her up, too…” he grimaced.

            Sam and his sister took their respective seats and buckled up, the engine starting as they stepped in.

            “So is this bridge all you two got?” Dean asked, closing his door.

            “The bridge was about four and a half minutes from their farm.” Sam recollected.

            “How do you know?” Dean asked.

            “I counted.” Sam confessed.

            _I knew he was counting back there._

            “It’s an old farmhouse with a small, creaky porch. It’ll probably look beaten and run-down from the outside.” Emily explained.

            “They took a left out of the farm, then turned right onto a dirt road, followed that for two minutes slightly up a hill, then took another quick right and we hit the bridge.”

            While Sam traced out a route on the map in his lap, Emily couldn’t help but think of where she was while these twists, turns, and bumps occurred on their trip back from the nest. She didn’t remember any of that vehicle ride, at least not those parts. Dean drove off, but it didn’t make her feel any better.

            _The pain lasted like, two minutes. Sam made the car ride sound a lot longer than that… Did the pain really last longer than what I thought? Why don’t I remember the whole way back?_

Dean and Sam must have noticed she zoned out for a bit because they were both snapping their fingers at her. She apologized and cleared her throat, avoiding eye contact with either of them.

            Without her notice, the brothers exchanged glances. Sam then went back to trying to navigate the map, sighing a lot and giving Dean nasty stares when _he_ wasn’t looking. Finally, they went over the bridge. Emily remembered the bridge. She wasn’t good at counting in relation to seconds, besides waiting for the microwave to finish heating something up. After a solid four and a half minutes, a house on their right was coming up that just about matched Emily’s approximation.

            “Look there!” Sam pointed out the window. “That looks like…”

            Gordon’s car was parked by the house.

            “Shit, we’re too late.” Emily growled under her breath.

            Dean parked as well, Sam and Emily hopping out, guns ready, more urgently than he was.

            “He must have heard what we had to say and crept out. I don’t know how we didn’t notice him leave though…” she whispered as they approached the porch.

            Dean suddenly caught up to them, telling them to stay calm. For a moment, it seemed that he was on their side, but then again, he was probably just saying that so they wouldn’t ‘cramp his style’. When they walked in, the aura felt completely different than it had earlier that night. The hair on the back of her neck stood up, and she felt her palms begin to sweat. Something was wrong. As they entered what appeared to be the dining room, they were met with Gordon slicing open Lenore with a knife. She appeared to be tied up and in severe pain. The scent hit all of their noses; dead man’s blood.

            “Ahh, Winchesters, come on in.” Gordon smiled.

            “Hey Gordon.” Dean was acting calm. “What’s going on?”

            “Just poisoning Lenore here with some dead man's blood. She's going to tell us where all her little friends are, aren't you?” he taunted her with the knife, twirling blood all around the blade. “Want to help?”

            “Look, man…” it was definite that Dean was not on board.

            “Grab a knife. I was just about to start on the fingers.” He sliced open Lenore’s arm, who could be heard moaning in pain.

            “Whoa, whoa, whoa, hey, let’s all just chill out, okay?” Dean said at Gordon.

            “I’m completely chill.” Gordon was still smiling, which ran a chill up Emily’s spine.

            “Gordon, put the knife down.” Sam took a step toward him, but Dean stopped him.

            Gordon, _still smiling_ , pointed at Sam with the knife.

            “Sounds like Sam that needs to chill.”

            Emily gripped her gun, but kept it down. “Just step away from her, all right?”

            Gordon nodded slowly. “You know what? Yea. You’re right. This bitch’ll never talk. I’m wasting my time here…so I mind as well put her out of her misery.” Setting his bloodied knife down, he pulled an even larger one out of his duffel bag resting on the table. “I can sense your concern, but I just sharpened it, so it’s completely humane.”

            Sam had gotten away from Dean, making a beeline for Lenore’s chair, getting there just in time for Gordon to turn around, ready to kill her. He looked surprised to see Sam standing there, then looked over at Dean for a brief second in confusion.

            “Gordon, I’m letting her go.” Sam said a bit too fiercely.

            Gordon retaliated by pointing the knife at Sam’s chest, which made Emily approach with her gun up and aimed. He quickly turned on her as well, the knife swinging a little too close to her outstretched hands. He switched aiming it back and forth between the two of them.

            “You’re not doing a damn thing.” He threatened.

            Dean finally stepped forward. “Hey, hey, hey, Gordon, let’s talk about this.”

            “What’s there to talk about? It’s like I said, they’re shades of gray. You’re different.” He seemed disappointed.

            “Gordon, I know how you feel, but—” he was cut off.

            “Do you?”

            “That vampire that killed your sister, it deserved to die, but this one…” Dean trailed off when he heard Gordon start to laugh.

            When Emily originally heard ‘killed your sister’ she thought ‘oh, how sad’, but what happened next made her want to split Gordon’s head straight down the middle.

            “Killed my sister?” he coincidentally turned to Emily, knife in hand, “That filthy fang didn’t kill my sister. It turned her. It made her one of them. So I hunted her down, and I killed her myself.”

            “You did _what_?” Dean asked, shocked.

            A knot in Emily’s stomach twisted and turned, and she realized that the example she had given Dean back at the motel was correct and was now sinking in. He realized she was lucky to not have been turned, and that Lenore was a merciful vampire.

            “It wasn’t my sister anymore, it wasn’t human.” He stared at her. “I didn’t blink.” He looked back up at Dean. “And neither would you.”

            Emily’s hands shook and her eyes widened, thinking about the possibilities of her brothers finding her a truly supernatural being. Would they shoot her on sight? Was she something that deserved to be killed?

            _They would never kill me…never…right…?!_

When her index finger was ready to grip the trigger out of sheer fear, she felt a hand on her shoulder. It was Dean’s.

            “So you knew all along, then? You knew about the vampires, you knew they weren't killing anyone. You knew about the cattle. And you just didn't care.” Sam narrowed his eyes.

            Luckily, Gordon hadn’t seen what Emily had almost done and was now facing Sam, knife still being gripped tightly. Emily moved her aim, and Dean did notice. To stop her, he squeezed her shoulder.

            “Care about what? A nest of vampires suddenly acting nice? Taking a little time out from sucking innocent people? And we're supposed to buy that? Trust me. Doesn't change what they are.” He looked down at Lenore. “And I can prove it.”

            Gordon grabbed Sam’s arm and sliced it open with his knife, then held it against his throat and moved closer to Lenore, an action that caused Dean to pull his own gun. Emily was no longer restrained from shooting, if she so wanted to.

            “Relax.” Gordon told the both of them. “If I wanted to kill him, he’d already be on the floor.” He saw the threatening glare in Dean’s eyes. “I’m just trying to make a point.”

            The blood seeping from Sam’s open wound dripped onto Lenore’s face, causing a moment of hesitation before her fangs popped out and the hissing began. Emily’s face sunk for a moment, thinking that, for a second, they could have been wrong.

            “Hey!” Dean shouted.

            “You think she’s so different? You still want to save her? Look at her, all of you. She’s just like the others; evil and bloodthirsty.”

            Lenore suddenly turned away and retracted her fangs, shivering and groaning the word ‘no’ over and over again, trying to keep control over her sudden urge for Sam’s blood. Emily smiled, relieved that they hadn’t been wrong about her. Gordon loosened his grip on Sam’s arm, who pulled it out of his hand and glared at him menacingly.

            “We’re done here.” He said.

            “Sam, Junior Mint, get her out of here.” Dean ordered.

            Emily holstered her gun and helped Lenore out of her chair, going around Sam’s direction so she wouldn’t get stabbed by Gordon. Sam supported Lenore under one shoulder while his sister took the other, and slowly, they walked her away from the maniac. Gordon must have stepped forward to stop them because Dean made a threat with his gun, they both heard it. Lenore looked weak and tired, and they both admitted to themselves that they felt pity for her.

            “I’m so sorry about Gordon…” she apologized. “If we had gotten here a little sooner, this wouldn’t have happened…”

            They reached the front door and carefully guided her down the porch steps. Dawn was upon them soon. Sam opened the back door to the Impala and helped Lenore sit down. She let out a sigh, either from relief, she was tired, or something hurt pretty badly. Emily waited for her to give a thumbs up before she closed the door. She assumed her position in the passenger seat, Sam taking the wheel.

            “Thank you, you two…” Lenore said graciously. “For seeing the light and not killing us all…”

            Sam looked in the rearview mirror. “It isn’t our job to kill innocent people. I’m just glad we were able to make Dean see the light, too.”

            They took off in the Impala. Lenore had told them that the rest of the vampires were waiting for her at the other end of town, so she instructed Sam to go there. Emily was quiet while he drove, looking out the window and thinking about Gordon’s story.

            _He killed his own sister because she wasn’t human anymore. The boys…they wouldn’t kill me, would they?_ She took a deep breath and glanced at Sam, who was leisurely maneuvering the roads. _No. They would never do that. We’ve seen so much shit together, there’s no way they would turn on me. I’m being stupid._

_“But are you?”_ a voice asked. _“I don’t know, what does Dean have to say about daddy, eh?”_

_What?! What the fuck is that?!_ She suddenly sat up in her seat and looked around the car.

            Lenore and Sam gave her a strange look, which made her apologize and slump back down like she was. Whoops, she forgot she was in a moving vehicle.

            _“He still hasn’t told you, has he? Oh, no. Don’t worry, you won’t think you’re overthinking things soon enough.”_

The voice didn’t talk again, but Emily had a pounding headache after that. When they finally reached the other edge of town, the sun was almost up. There was a pick-up truck and a minivan waiting for them at the side of the road with two men waiting for them, both of them very serious and threatening looking, one which was Eli. When the Impala rolled up, they were anything but nice. As Emily stepped out of the car, she had her hand raised to halt them.

            “Hey, I know what you’re thinking. Lenore’s alive, she’s right here.” She gestured to Sam helping her out of the back seat.

            “What the hell happened to her?!” Eli shouted.

            “Our…well…hunter acquaintance got to her before we could stop him. She’s cut up and wounded, but if she rests for your journey to wherever you’re going, she should be healed again soon. The dead man’s blood should wear off in about an hour or so. I’m sorry for all of the trouble we’ve caused you.” She bowed her head and closed her eyes.

            Sam was taken aback about how mature she suddenly became, he didn’t even get the chance to say anything. Eli and the other man muttered a ‘thank-you’ before they got into their vehicles and left. As they watched them drive away, Sam bandaged his arm with a piece of cloth. It had stopped bleeding a long time ago, but it was still good to be careful. They both sighed, a weight being lifted from their shoulders. There was a happy ending for the vampires, and they both felt good about it. The siblings loaded back into the Impala and began their trek back, going a little faster now that there wasn’t fragile baggage in the back seat.

            “Hey, Em.” Sam started. “About what Gordon said back there…about killing his sister…”

            “It’s awful.” She spat, staring out the windshield. “He should have tried to help her, steer her toward what Lenore and the others did. But no. He killed his own sister.”

            “I know, and I just want you to know that Dean and I…we would never do that to you. You know that right?” he sounded concerned.

            “Of course. We’re family.” She looked at him while he drove.

            “And what you said at the motel, about being something that probably wasn’t natural… I don’t care what or where you came from. No matter what, we’ll never do anything to hurt you. We aren’t monsters. We aren’t dad.”

            She nodded with a smile on her face. “Thank you, Sam…”

            With words of motivation in their minds, they eventually made it back to the house, where Gordon’s car remained. Calmly, the two of them left the car and entered the house, an eerie calm resting in the air. Dean was sitting on a backwards chair, oh so classily, and staring at a tied up Gordon, who looked like he went through 12 rounds with Rocky.

            “Did we miss anything?” Sam asked.

            “Nah, not much. Did Lenore get out all right?” Dean asked, peppier than they thought.

            “Yep.” Emily looked at Gordon. “They _all_ did.”

            Gordon gave her an exhausted dirty look, one which she took as a compliment.

            “Well, I guess our work here is done.” He stood up to look at his captive. “How ya doin’, Gordy? Gotta take a piss yet? Ah, who cares, we’ll call somebody in two or three days to come and untie ya’.” He jammed Gordon’s knife into the table next to him.

            “Ready to go, Dean?” Sam raised an eyebrow.

            “Not yet.” He sighed and looked down at Gordon, as if he was saying goodbye to a great friend…which he wasn’t. “Well, I guess this is goodbye. It’s been real.”

            He punched Gordon so hard that his chair flew back, sending him to the ground. A groan of pain emanated from his mouth and Dean clapped his hands together, a job well done.

            “Okay, now I’m good. Let’s go, guys.”

            They left the house, Emily looked over Dean’s bruises, which he must have gotten while fighting Gordon. There was no way a fight _didn’t_ go down. Sam clenched his fist several times to make sure his sliced arm was all right, which it was. Out of nowhere, Dean dropped into a boxing stance.

            “Dean, what are you—” she was cut off.

            “Sam? Clock me one.” He said.

            “What?” Sam stopped.

            “Come on. I won’t even hit you back, let’s go.” He took a deep breath.

            “No, Dean.” Sam started to walk away.

            “I’m giving you a freebie!” Dean seemed to be begging at this point.

            Emily stood in front of him and patted his shoulder. He looked up at her with a confused smile.

            “If you insist.” She smiled back.

            She gave him a taste of her full right-hook, taking him off guard and causing him to shout out in confused pain. He swore rather loudly, which made Sam turn around, completely appalled. Rather proud of herself, Emily placed her hands on her hips.

            “That’s for being a fucking asshole.” She pointed at him while he stood back up, just as appalled as his brother. “AND, for STILL not telling me about what Marcus told you. Ya little fuck nugget. But it’s all good. I feel better now.”

            “I…uh…I’m sorry…?” Dean rubbed his left cheek.

            “Don’t worry about it. Besides, you look like you fought both Rocky and Creed at the same time, so I’ll drop it, just for you.” She turned and walked back to the Impala.

            “But you punched me!” Dean laughed.

            “Not important.”

            After a brief moment of silence, Dean sighed and leaned on the car.

            “I wish we never took this hunt, it jacked everything up…”

            “What do you mean?” Sam asked.

            “Think about the hunts we went on, Sammy. Our whole lives.” He clearly seemed upset.

            Dean’s speech wasn’t exactly applicable to Emily because she wasn’t raised by John, a heartless and egotistical bastard who ran one of his sons out of the house. She was raised by a man who knew his shit and wouldn’t allow her to live the sort of life the boys did. He was relaxed with her, but he knew that missions were important to the job as well. There was balance. There was love. There was a family.

            “…When I killed that vampire at the mill, I didn’t hesitate, I didn’t even think. Hell, I enjoyed it.”

            “You didn’t kill Lenore.” Sam told him.

            Emily nodded and smiled at her brother.

            “Yea, cause you two are a major pain in my ass.” He couldn’t conceal his own smile.

            “That’s why I’m here.” She shrugged like an asshole. “I’m here to be the additional pain in your ass.”

            They both laughed as they got into the car. A bond once again unbreakable between them, they drove off into the rising sun and way the fuck away from that house.

 

            **Some Time Later**

        After picking up their stuff at the motel, they were on the road to who-knows-where. Emily was crashed in the back seat, lightly snoring in a teenage way. She stated ‘well shit, I pulled an all-nighter’ and fell asleep soon after that. Dean, however, seemed to be completely fine with driving. Sam and he had been whispering to each other for the past twenty minutes, only when they were POSITIVE their sister was asleep.

            “You’re positive she couldn’t answer you on the ride back?” Dean asked.

            “I’m sure. I asked if she was okay three times. All I could hear was rapid breathing and pained groans, and when I asked if she was okay, I got nothing in return. When we got back to the motel, she was clammy and out of it.”

            “Isn’t that, like…a girl thing though?”

            Sam gave him a look.

            “Okay, so no.”

            “But even weirder was when we were going to drop off Lenore… She was just zoning out when she suddenly sat up and looked around. Dean, you have to admit, she’s been a bit out of it.”

            “Yea, well, she did just have an all-nighter. She’s a kid, Sam.” He got onto the highway.

            “How often are kids literally not responsive while in serious pain? Dean, come on. There’s something going on.” He remembered what happened back at the cabin with the demon, but didn’t want to bring it up.

            “Well, we’ll talk to her about it when she wakes up. For now, let her rest.”

            Without the brothers’ knowledge, their sister’s over-active imagination was not the one at work for her dreams while she slept ‘so peacefully’ in the back seat of the car.


	14. It's Your Fucking Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The time to know who the voice in her mind is has finally come. For a long time, Emily thought she knew who was always in her head, but she was too scared to think about it. She treks through the wilds of her destructive nightmares, forces pushing her through a puzzle that only she and them would know the answers to. She comes face-to-face with the man who she can't live without. She also comes face-to-face with the truth Dean has hidden from her.

**The Nightmare**

Emily knew she was asleep. She knew that she had made an all-nighter happen during their dispute with Gordon and the vampires. However, what she didn’t know was when she fell asleep, as well as where she was when she woke up. When her eyes opened, she recognized the black sky with a red sun. Beneath her was grass.

            _I’ve been here before._

When she sat up, she realized there was no wind. The landscape was being lit in shades of red, and the grass was a strange mixture of green and yellow, a color that looked to not even be on the color scale. Trying to get her bearings, she found that yes, she was in a field in the middle of bum-fuck nowhere. There didn’t seem to be houses anywhere, and there were no roads to be seen.  All that she knew she wanted to do was get up and walk. So that’s exactly what she did.

            “Hello?” she spoke aloud.

            Walking through the grass gave her a calming sensation. It helped that she knew she was in a dream and not in real life, knowing that at any time, she could wake up if she wanted. But for now, she wanted rest. While walking, she noticed that there were no other signs of life, not even a bird flying in the sky. There wasn’t even a butterfly or any other insect. That was when she felt a tad uneasy. There _had_ to be something else with her, this simply wasn’t natural. Just as she figured that very thought, she finally found a barn and a road. One that she recognized.

            “I know where I am. This road leads to Topton.” She confirmed when looking at an advertisement for a bank.

            Knowing that she was near Topton gave her mixed feelings; her heart swelled when thinking of her friends and family, but her heart also felt gouged, thinking of the death she witnessed there. Gulping, she figured there was nothing else to do.

            “Suppose I keep walking, and suppose I go to the house.” She talked to herself, still staring at the sign. “Am I really gonna get anything there?”

            The sign that she was staring at began to morph, and the words that read “Wells Fargo Bank” changed to “What did he say?” which surprised her.

            “What? What did he say? What are you—” before she could finish her question, or even think about finishing it, the sign changed again.

            The sign said “Marcus” in big, red letters. Eyes widening, she knew what the sign was trying to tell her, and unfortunately it was to go to the house and look for answers there. What she had been mad at Dean about while awake had been planted into this dream, like a seed.  She didn’t really consider her options, she just had a tugging feeling that was urging her to visit the house. She looked towards that direction and nodded.

            “All right, let’s see what Dean won’t tell me…” she whispered.

            As she walked down the road, the sign changed to “Good luck”, but she didn’t get to see it. On both sides of the road she walked, there were fields that spread out for miles. The Amish lived in little houses with a bunch of kittens, at least that’s what she remembered. Further behind her, she knew that they sold vegetables, homemade butter and cheese, as well as furniture at a road stand. Ahead of her, the little houses began popping up, home to students and old people. The trees looked more deformed than normal. The colony’s home was right near the edge of town, Marcus liked it that way for a quick escape, and it was the only duplex that had been torn apart from the inside to make bigger. Surprisingly, she didn’t mind walking the entire trek thus far. Actually, she didn’t even pay attention to how much time had pass. It could have been an hour, or it could have been multiple. She didn’t care.

            “I wonder what everybody is doing right now… Will everybody be happy to see me? Or…will they be upset…?”

            She needed to remember that this was just a dream, and that any emotion they held in here was not reflected on their thoughts in the real world. Using that as her fuel, she took deep breaths when she approached the house. Knocking as loud and upbeat as she could, she heard no stirring within the house. She tried again, and this time there was movement.

            “Yea, yea, I’m coming!” it sounded like Kyle.

            A smile grew across her face when she heard his voice, but when he opened the door, he nearly scared it right off her.

            “Emily!” he shouted happily. “It’s good to see you!”

            _OH MY GOD, WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR TEETH?!_

Emily knew that Kyle’s teeth were a tad sharper and straighter than normal in real life, but _these_ …these were just nonsense. They were abnormally sharpened when he smiled, and there appeared to be an additional row behind the pre-existing layer. His big toothy grin didn’t make her feel calm at all, she thought she was facing an actual shark. He took the initiative to hug her. She tried not to stiffen and hug him back.

            “What brings you here?” he pulled away.

            “I was wondering if I could just…stop by and talk to you guys.”

            “Sure.” His smile tripped up for a second. “Ringo’s in the kitchen, asked not to be disturbed, I hope you don’t mind.”

            “Of course. No problem at all…take me to where the people are.” She smiled.

            Closing the door behind them, she looked at the dining room where she ate her last meal…in the last dream-like state she had here. Remembering such a thing made her heart jump, but she followed Kyle up the stairs. A dark aura emanated from out of nowhere and it put her on edge. The house had looked and even smelled the same, but it didn’t feel the same, not by a long shot. They turned left into the living room and she was faced with her old colony members. Shawn and Steven were sitting on the couch with the television turned to static. Shawn turned his head first.

            “Emily!” he smiled, thankfully his teeth were normal. “It’s so good to see you!” he got up and embraced her in a hug. Her eyes were widened when she returned the gesture.

            _Your scar…what happened…?_

The triple-banded scar running down the right side of Shawn’s face was dramatically enhanced, it was much more destructive and gory than she remembered. It ran deeper, more flesh was ripped away, and it looked more painful than what had actually happened to him. It was so bad, his usual pale iris was faded completely, making it grossly cloudy. Swallowing, she tried not to make a big notice to herself about it. They smiled at each other until Steven stood from the couch, sluggishly and lacking any motivation whatsoever. Usually, she was flattered by his enthusiasm about her being home, but no. When they looked each other in the eyes, she almost stopped breathing.

            “Hey, Emily.” He said in his usual manner. “It’s good to see you.”

            _Your eyes…Steven, what happened to your beautiful eyes?_

They were soulless, white orbs. Usually his eyes would have locked her gaze, but she was terrified to look at them. It made her want to cry.

            “Go on, sit down.” Steven gestured to the couch. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

            “W-waiting for me?” she noted her stammer, they did too. “Well of course! It’s my house too, right?” she came off as a lot more chipper.

            Sitting in the middle of Steven and Kyle on the long couch, Shawn took a seat on the loveseat that was perpendicular to them. The television remained playing static.

            _I need to remember that I’m dreaming. I’m dreaming. They don’t look like this in reality. I need to keep calm and just talk. That’s why I’m here, to talk._

“So, you guys, I was wondering if you could give me some answers.” She clapped her hands together. “I was wondering if any of you know what Marcus had to talk to my brother, Dean, about the last time we were here. It must have been hush hush, cause Dean doesn’t wanna tell me.”

            They all spoke in unison.

            “The red-eyed demon.” Kyle remained smiling.

            “The red-eyed demon.” Steven remained smiling.

            “The red-eyed demon.” Shawn remained smiling.

            A chill ran up her spine, and it wasn’t because of their answer.

            “Well…um…what about him?”

            Steven looked at her. “Emily, why don’t you love me?”

            She blinked. “What?!”

            “Ya see, Steven, buddy, she loves _me_ obviously.” Kyle rested his hand on her knee.

            “Again, what?” she looked perplexed at Kyle.

            Steven rested his head on her shoulder. Kyle moved her hand up her leg.

            “Kyle, can you not?” she went to move it but the sudden smile full of teeth he gave her made her freeze. She retracted her hand.

            _Calm down. Calm down before this turns into a nightmare._

“They talked about the plans Astaroth had for you.” Steven held her hand now. “They are very different than you think.”

            “Considering I don’t even KNOW Astaroth has a _specific_ plan for me, I didn’t even think of anything, thanks.” Kyle’s smile kept her frozen.

            _This is bad. This is really bad._

“We don’t know all of the details. All we know is that Marcus was meant to die.” Kyle laughed. “He knew it the moment you didn’t come home. You had changed. You killed him, Emily, and IT’S ALL YOUR FAULT!”

            What had started as a welcoming visit went from zero to fucked very quickly. Horns sprouted from Kyle’s head and his teeth elongated, his posture becoming more and more hunched over. The smile remained on his face.

            “I can keep you safe.” Steven muttered, pulling her against him.

            His hands tightened around her waist, causing her to scream. They were claws of some sort of beast, and twisted horns sprouted from his temples. She shivered in fear, the people she knew and loved had turned into beasts before her very eyes. She felt Steven lick her neck.

            “Stay with us.” He then whispered into her ear.

            “YEA, EM. STAY WITH US.” Kyle’s hands hadn’t moved.

            _NO!_

First kicking her leg upward into Kyle’s jaw, she used the opportunity, legs now free, to careen herself off of the couch with Steven still latched on. Steven hit his head on the way down, loosening his grip. Emily elbowed him in the chest and turned to kick, successfully hitting him in the side of the head. Kyle was rubbing his chin while Steven was on his knees. Her back was to the hallway that led to the attic, which was Shawn’s room. Just as she thought of Shawn, his hair grew out to the length of his waist, and thorns appeared all over his body. His eyes turned white and he also hunched over, ready to charge. At that point, Emily knew she had no other alternative. Turning, she sprinted to the stairwell that led to the attic. As she ran, the beasts followed her, making the stairs crumble below them as they ran.

            _Something is wrong! The stairs won’t end! I can’t find the door!_

Looking over the railing as she ran, she saw the floors of the house beneath her fall away, as if the staircase was infinitely rising. Suddenly, her foot was caught in something. As she slammed her chin into the step, it caught a hold of her arm as well.

            “The stairs! They’re turning into vines…?!!”

            The vines tossed her over the side of the railing, sending her flying back down through the air. Screaming, she saw the floor approach her fast. When she thought she would be a blood pancake, something stopped her. A hand around her ankle. Looking up awkwardly, she saw the possessor of said hand, dangling from the very same vines that threw her.

            “WHAT’S HAPPENING TO ME?!” she screamed up at them, tears dripping off of her face.

            The man didn’t show his face. “Please don’t cry.” His voice was deep, almost soothing. “I hate it when you cry.”

            The vine he held onto whipped them upward, toward the endless, ever-growing ceiling. Now, instead of becoming a blood pancake, Emily was certain she was being sent straight into space. Her screaming continued, even as the mysterious man whizzed through the air past her, as if he was in more control of the situation than she was. He grabbed her hand on the way past, using the other to grip another section of the railing. Their sudden speed came to a halt, and they were dangling once again. Breathing heavily, she looked all around her, as if she was having a dream within a dream, which may have also been within another dream. Slowly, she was pulled back onto the stairs. On hands and knees, she tried calming herself down, sweat and tears dripping onto the wooden planks.

            “You…whoever you are…thank you…” she looked up, but there was nobody there. “Wait…what…?”

            She could still hear the beasts of her friends clambering up the stairs behind her, which helped her decide to keep moving. After several more minutes of running up and up and up, finally there was Shawn’s bedroom door. Flinging it open, she didn’t hesitate to dash in and barricade the door behind her. A moment of peace fell before her, allowing her to collect her thoughts. She had to get the fuck out of this house. Amongst Shawn’s cluttered bedroom, there were explosives, maps and plans, powder of some kind, and socks.

            “I need to leave, I need to leave…!” she looked around helplessly.

            The beasts were close behind.

            “The roof! I need to get to the roof.” She nodded at her own claim.

            Using furniture and other fixtures to break a hole in the door, she began to hear pounding on the door. There wasn’t much time left. Suddenly, as red light poured in, she realized something.

            “Ringo.”

            Ringo was still in the house, on the first floor, probably still cooking. The pounding at the door grew louder, the wood beginning to splinter. If she wasn’t on that roof in ten seconds, there was no guarantee she would see regular sunlight ever again. Grabbing a chair, she made her set-up to hoist herself out. However, as soon as her feet stepped up onto the chair, the racket stopped. All was calm and quiet. Hands shaking, she turned around to look at the door. All that could be heard was an eerie humming. She stepped onto the hardwood floor once again, entranced by the noise. As she reached for the doorknob, someone clutched the back of her shirt and forced her away.

            “YOU IDIOT!” they shouted.

            As she was pulled, she saw the door implode on itself, like a black hole. Her eyes widened, and she was pulled to safety on top of the roof. In a flash, the hole she made in the roof was sealed and it was all over. Hardly catching her breath, hardly knowing what was going on, she knew that she fucked up something somewhere during her encounter. However, the house was normal. She and her rescuer were not being sucked into an abyss of screams, or whatever the fuck she just avoided. She was safely on the roof. Safe from the beasts.

            “You may be asleep, but that doesn’t mean you’re allowed to be an idiot. You were fine, you were home free, but no. You decided to be curious about a little humming noise.” Complained the male figure that seemed to have sealed the roof, as well as rescued her.

            “I…I’m sorry, I…”

            “No, please. Don’t apologize.” He let out an exhale. “I get irritated too easily. You had no idea what was going on, and I apologize for that.”

            The man had his back turned to her. All she knew was that he had black hair, as well as a black suit jacket and dark pants. Whether they were dress or jeans, she could not tell. His shoes, from where she sat, looked very professional.

            “You must be very scared.” He said.

            “I’m…a little freaked out, yea…” she wobbled to a standing position. “But…are you the one who rescued me?”

            “Yes.” He stood up straighter. “Yes I did.” He slowly turned, hand extended.

            Emily’s eyes widened as she now saw the face of her rescuer. Beautiful skin, admirable black hair that touched his shoulders, a smirk to melt the heart, and red eyes. Pure, striking red eyes.

            “I know what you’re thinking; I’m not Astaroth.” He put his hands up in innocence. “This is your mind, this is your dream, therefore you’re making me appear the way I am. Aren’t I handsome?” he smiled.

            She smiled back, but forced it away. “I don’t believe you. When we were on the stairs, you appeared to be in far more control than me.”

            “I am the part of your mind that seeks control. The part that knows how to grasp it, and the part that knows how to execute it.” He bowed.

            “And it’s a man? Way to go, brain…” she mumbled. “But why red eyes?”

            “It’s who you’re searching for, is it not?” he stated frankly.

            He had her there. She lowered her head and balled her fists.

            “My dear, I know we have just met, but I must go. Someone we know is on their way now, and they won’t like me being here.” He tipped her head up to look at him.

            “Ringo? Ringo’s here?!” she smiled wide. “You can help them explain what’s happening, why I’m here!”

            He stepped back and turned around. “I need to leave. I hope to see you soon.”

            “Wait! I didn’t get a chance to—”

            With a gust of wind and dark light, the man was gone. She was left alone once again.

            “—thank you…” her expression sank.

            Her thoughts were swimming and she needed to calm down. Her first stage of execution had failed, she received no answers. The house was clearly the wrong place to go, but what other options remained? There were none, off the top of her head.

            _This was the best thing, they were my first hope…I need to know what Dean knows. I need…I need…_

“You _need_ to take a chill.” A voice behind her said.

            When she turned, there they were; Ringo. Their arms were crossed, and they didn’t look very happy.

            “You’re okay!” she hugged them. “Ringo, how did you—”

            “Never mind that now. Emily, you don’t have a lot of time. Your fucking around here not only didn’t get you anywhere, but also wasted precious minutes.” They were holding something in their hands. “Because of that, I have something I think could aid you on your journey.”

            “What are you talking about? What do you know?” Emily furrowed her brows. “What is that in your hands?”

            “I can’t tell you much…but I know that you must follow these directions if you want to find what you’re looking for.” They handed her a piece of paper. “They are specific, worded just for you. The person who wrote them knew you’d be able to figure it out.”

            “The person who wrote them…?” she looked at the words. “What do you…”

            Ringo was gone.

            “…mean…”

            With a sigh, she read the words.

            _“Head to the scene of one of your worst nightmares.”_

“What the fuck does that mean?” she asked aloud. “My worst nightmare…?”

            With wide eyes, she looked at the structure she was standing on. This was the home where the father she’d known so dear had died in front of her. However, she shook that thought out of her mind when she realized that she had already been through here to search for answers, and came up empty.

            “If THIS isn’t correct…then that must mean the beasts were meant to tell me I was wrong. Which means that was punishment for going to the wrong place.” Alarmed she came to that conclusion quickly, she looked around the distorted horizon. “Which means if I go back to any other place where I’ve suffered, and it turns out to be wrong, consequences will be placed. What kind of asshole…”

            Looking back, she decided not to try to trek back through the house. Since this was a dream, she thought, perhaps she wouldn’t be injured if she jumped from the roof. As she leapt, she was on the ground within moments, as if the ground demanded to meet her without harm. Trees and houses seemed to be surrounded in static, greeting her with animosity that she wanted to wander into. Looking at the note again, she thought of another destination.

            “Michigan is too far away. While one of my worst nightmares occurred there…that seems like it’s too far away for me to venture in order to give me a hint.” As she looked up from the paper again, something seemed very familiar to her. “Unless I truly think about the reason why I’m here.”

            Thinking she found her answer, she sprinted into the road and followed it north. Taking lefts and rights, she began seeing houses that hung signs from their exteriors.

_“JUNIOR MINT.”_ Was hung on them all.

            All of the houses seemed to be urging her to go forward. However, the more she traversed, the more the houses and trees began to look more distorted. Trees seemed to melt, houses were crumbling, and the grass turned into sludge. These signs either meant she was getting close, or that she was in for some big trouble. The paper she clutched in her hands began to grow hot, and it wasn’t from the accumulating heat that rose from her sweating palms. Not coming to a stop when handling it, she opened the paper to find new words.

            _“When the destination is met, you will gaze through the eyes of the one who knows all. Choose your path wisely, for unwanted answers will cause your downfall.”_

_How poetic._ She thought.

            Because of the demented dreamscape, the trek to the factory with its own city was a short distance, probably because too much excessive running wore her out, and her mind knew that. The concrete jungle was vaster than she remembered, and the red light from the sun didn’t help with the anxiety she already felt. It was as if she was being watched by a single red eye. Black vines sprouted from the ground, tangling its way around the building and growing before her eyes at an alarming place. Slowly, she walked around and observed the obscurities around her, being cautious not to trigger any beasts like last time. For the most part, she seemed to be in the clear. An old neon sign, no longer lit, hung in tatters. “DEKA” could be made out through the vines, and below it was a giant service door. The door was most likely for giant trucks or forklifts; to her knowledge this was an abandoned battery factory. To the side of it, on the right, was a giant red button. It was the only thing not covered in vines, which meant she must have had to press it. With a deep breath, she folded up the paper and put it in her flannel’s right breast pocket.

            “Here we go.”

            She slammed her fist into the button, and like an old machine, the door slowly clanked open. A gust of cold air flew out from under it, creating a sort of wind tunnel as it opened. Beyond the opening door was a type of special vortex, one with hovering objects and words, some areas with codes painted on the walls, and odd noises coming from all around. Gulping, she stepped into the hellish building, the door sliding to a close behind her. Her heart was racing as she looked around. When she was here last time, though it was a dream, it was drastically different than it was right now. There were doors everywhere; doors that looked more cabinesque than factory-built.

            “Okay, I need to focus. I need to look for Marcus…or at least something similar. I’ll take anything I can get.”

            She followed the hallway, slowly. Over some of the doors, there were titles. Some of them were phrases. She made her way to a sleek, black door, one that could be mistaken for the impala.

            “ _Be Careful What You Wish For”_ The title read.

“Well, shit.” She sighed.

            Reaching for the door handle, she realized it _was_ the impala’s door, just more rectangular. Like a band-aid, she thought this was something to be pulled open quickly. When she did, she was met with headlights and a gust of air. The bright light was too much, and she needed to close the door again, coughing as dust wafted up around her. Hearing a blaring horn on the other end as the door came to a close, she knew what and when that was. Inhaling, she opened again and peered through, the impact already taken place. At the frame of the door, she watched the wreckage happen and watched their bodies fling about, watched _her_ body fly out of the car, which was very surreal. What she realized was that this was not from the point of view of her anymore, it was some sort of third party. The headlights may have been from her, but this part was not. She saw Kylene, the djinn, appear and slowly approach. The third party walked closer and closer to the wreckage. Thirty seconds passed before the conversation started.

            _“Well, I’d say you put her through the ringer, eh Kylene?”_ a man’s voice asked.

            While she _thought_ she recognized the voice, much of it was very mottled, making it difficult to pin to an identity. All she could tell was that the speaker was male.

            _“It had to be done. Her heart was split and she needed to make a decision.”_ Kylene responded with a sigh.

            _“Well now, I’m glad you were able to turn the decision in my favor.”_ The man seemed to chuckle.

            “What?” Emily’s heart skipped a beat. “What did he just say?”

            The very first thought that came to her mind was the decision she made in her dream; a dream that felt like days, but in actuality, was only 30 seconds, judging from the conversation. The decision she made was for her to return to a world where her brothers knew about her existence, where they acknowledged her as their sister. In that life, the one she lived now, the red eyed demon would continue to come after her.

            “Astaroth. It really was him that day, he was there. I knew it.” Her fists clenched.

            Suddenly, the speaker who she now believed to be Astaroth turned and fled for the horizon. The door closed on her, giving her the hint that the memory was over. Looking around, she found that the doors had changed. With a new sense of confidence, she spun around and made her way down the hallway, no longer worrying about caution. The next door she found was a bedroom door, and she thought for sure that the answers she needed were there.

            _I heard you like the woods._

“The…woods?” she asked, reading the phrase above the door.

            When she opened the door, it opened to the inside of a cabin. As she was about to step in, something touched her shoulder.

            “Wait!”

            Spinning around aggressively, she went for a punch with a scream. To her dismay, the punch was blocked, but to her surprise, the one behind her was not an attacker, but the man who had saved her back at the house. He grabbed her fist and lowered it, eyes narrowed and teeth clenched.

            “You scared me! What are you doing here?!” she shouted.

            “Telling you not to go in that one. That isn’t going to bode well for you.” He explained.

            “And how would you know?” she asked, angrily. “The answers I need might be in there!”

            He studied her face intently. “You’re frustrated, clearly, about something.”

            Emily pulled her hand away. “No. I’m fine.”

            It was obvious that he didn’t believe her. “Well, no matter what you say, you can’t handle what’s in here. I’m serious.”

            She turned around and peered through the door again.

            “Emily.” His voice was urgent.

            Slamming the door, she continued down the hallway. “I’m going to keep looking then.”

            Sighing, the man’s eye twinkled. “That’s the spirit. I knew you would come to your senses.” He followed her. “But do you have any idea where you’re going?”

            “Not in the slightest. Astaroth was in the last door I opened, so I need to keep looking. I’m _going_ to keep looking.”

            “Oh darling, let me at least point you in the right direction…it’s only fair, since I disappeared on you last time.”

            She stopped. “How do you know where to go?” she didn’t turn around.

            He didn’t answer her.

            “How…do you know where to go…?” she turned around to look at him, as he stood still and gazed at her.

            “Two hallways down, far to the right, search for the title that makes the most sense. When you get to the door, your answers will be there.”

            “Thank you…” she nodded, turned, and ran.

            “Ah…this isn’t going the way I wanted it to.” The man opened the door that she had slammed shut. “That was a close one.”

 

**Deeper in the Factory**

            The factory became more and more warped the farther she went. As she ran, she tried to be careful while following the directions her “kind friend” had given her. She had one hallway left to trek until she had to make her turns in order to find the door. The deeper she was thrown into this madness, the more confused she grew. There were more questions than answers at this point, and it pissed her the fuck off.

            “Okay, okay, almost there…” she told herself. “Just around here, and--”

            There were two bedroom doors in the entire hallway. They were right across from one another. In denial, she snickered.

            “His directions were just fucking rhetorical.” She turned to the door on her right.

            She read the title, considering it should “make the most sense”.

            “ _Sydney”_

“Wait, what? That’s it, that’s the title?” she threw her hands up in disbelief. “That’s all I get to work with?!”

            Thinking she made a mistake, she checked the other door. It had no title.

            “Great. Let’s see this monstrosity.”

            She opened the titled door to a familiar sight. It appeared she had a beautiful view of the woods, and there was a road that cut through it. There was a house facing her. Or, to be more precise, she was facing the house.

            “Woodside Road…” she whispered.

            Without thinking of it, she stepped through the door, into the realm of somebody’s memory. If she was correct, this was Sydney Oswald’s house. She had stepped into an old memory, or at least something similar. Reaching out, she did indeed feel the glass of a window. Behind her, she heard crying. Slowly turning, she was met with a dead demon man and his daughter; or at least the vessel. Her skin suddenly chilled, hair standing on end.

            “Sydney…”

            “You killed my dad!” The girl shouted at her.

            Feeling, by instinct, for a weapon, she found out that she didn’t have one. Was this a mistake? Was she about to pay for entering the wrong door?

            “You couldn’t figure it out fast enough…” she was crying into her dad’s shirt.

            That image resonated with her, and she knew it was a twisted form of symbolism. She remembered why she had to kill the father; to get the demon blood. Why did she need demon blood? To save Marcus. She was in the right room.

            “Syd, I’m sorry, but you would never believe me if I told yo—”

            “And you’re still too slow! You didn’t figure it out fast enough!” she looked up and shouted.

            _Figure it out?_

            Through Sydney’s cries, Emily could hear the phone ring. She slowly looked up at the bedroom doorway. Sydney stopped crying and looked as well.

            “Aren’t you gonna get that? It’s for you.” She told her, straight faced.

            She swallowed. “Uh…yea. Sure…” she made her way, slowly, past the duo and found her way to the top of carpeted stairs.

            “It’s long distance.” Sydney said from behind.

            Her hands suddenly turned clammy. The night’s events were suddenly making their way back into her closest memory, and everything came back like a flood. Her phone had been ringing, she killed a friend’s demon dad, the neighbors had heard gunshots, and she presumed that it was them on the phone. She remembered she needed to find an escape route. When she got to the base of the stairs, the ringing stopped. After 15 seconds, the answering machine clicked.

            _“Tonight is the night.”_

Chills ran up her spine. Before she could think, the phone started ringing again. Slowly, she walked towards the phone that hung from the wall. Hand shaking, she reached out and picked it up.

            “Hello?” she answered.

            _“It was all predicted. Tonight is the night. The spawn has realized her blood.”_

“What the fuck? Who is this?” she asked, voice shaking.

            _“That night was the night. Emily, wasn’t it a glorious night?”_

With a yelp, she dropped the phone. That voice was familiar. For some reason, she was having such a difficult time figuring out who the owner of the voice was. The voice emanated through the phone, loud enough for her to hear.

            _“You weren’t there to save him.”_

“NO!” she screamed, ripping the phone off of the wall.

            The drywall now had a less-than-lovely hole in it, and the phone was meant to be broken and disconnected. However, the voice, as if in a gurgle, continued to speak.

            _“You tried so hard to save him with a demon’s blood.”_

Screaming, she stomped down on the phone, attempting to smash it to pieces.

            _“In hindsight, that usually would work. But it didn’t.”_ The voice was emanating in the air around her now.

“SHUT UP!” she clamped her hands over her ears.

            _“You got there just in time to witness the tragedy finish. It was years in the making, but now it can finally begin.”_

Tears streamed down her face as she listened, running around the house to find a way out of this wretched house.

            _“You can run away from your fate all you want.”_ Emily opened a door, only seeing Sydney on the other end of it, hands bloodied.

            _“But no matter how hard you try, you’ll never escape it.”_

“Stop it!” she shouted, slamming the door and looking some more. “Get out of my head!”

            _“No, Emily. I won’t stop; and I never will.”_

Emily opened another door and saw the forest and several silhouettes. Something in her brain forced her to look away, like repressing a memory. She slammed the door shut and forcibly wiped tears from her face.

            _“I am the one that wakes you from your dreams. The evil that lurks in the darkest crevices of your mind.”_ The voice seemed to whisper to her inside her own head.

            “Who are you?!” she screamed. “Goddammit, who are you?!”

            She finally saw what seemed to be the front door, all this time being disguised with the decoys. She ran for it, eager to wake up from this god forsaken nightmare.

            _“No matter where you go, no matter where you flee, you will always be welcomed by—”_

When she opened the door, it seemed that all of the life left her body. She was frozen, staring at the idol standing in front of her. Professional-looking shoes. Dark pants, not known if dress or jeans. Black suit jacket. Black hair. _Red eyes._

“—me.” He greeted.

            Her hand was frozen to the knob of the door. All of the color must have been drained from her face because the man’s expression changed from a smirk to sheer concern. Tears also fell from her cheeks as she began to process this entire series of events.

            “I believe you have yet to learn my name.”

            She shook her head, hoping to God that she would wake up before anything escaped his lips.

            “My name is Astaroth.”

            Her legs wobbled and she fell to her knees. Her head hung low and forward as she felt a tidal wave of emotion hit her all at one time. The man who had rescued her, the man who gave her hints and led her to where she needed to go, all of his kindness, it was all Astaroth. She couldn’t speak.

            “Please understand, my dear—” he went to touch her shoulder.

            “DON’T FUCKING TOUCH ME!” she veered backwards and landed on her butt.

            “My, my. A little angry, huh?” he extended his hand for her.

            “If we weren’t in a nightmare right now…if I had my weapons…” she growled.

            “But you don’t.” his gaze hardened slightly.

            She pulled her eyes away from him, looking at the floor where her tears landed.

            “Emily,” he continued. “Do you know why you’re here?”

            “You’re going to kill me? Possess me?” she asked, venom dripping from her tone.

            He kneeled down so he was at eye level. “Why would I want to do that to you? You’re very special to me, do you know that?”

            Her first reaction was to slap him. For a moment, he paused before taking a deep, annoyed inhale, slowly turning his head back to look at her.

            “You came here for a reason. I would prefer it if you cooperated. Now remember.”

“I need to know what Dean refuses to tell me…about my father…” she didn’t look at him.

            “You mean the Marcus fellow?” he asked, mockingly.

            “Yes.” She sniffled. “Marcus.”

            “I can explain everything to you, and I will answer you what I can. If you trust me, I can lead you out of this place. We can speak amongst ourselves, peacefully.” He stood up and loomed over her, extending his hand once more. “Will you allow me to help you?”

            _A freebie? He’s going to tell me anything I need him to, without consequences or hard work? It seems too good to be true. He has me alone here. He could have already killed my body for all I know._

He was eerily patient.

            _But I’ll never have a chance like this again. I need to go for it._

Wiping her eyes and her nose with her inner elbow, she nodded and took his hand.

            “Okay. I’ll trust you.”

            He pulled her up with a smile. “Lovely. Now come with me.”

            Right away, she was escorted through the door with him, only to be horrified by what she saw, a familiar sight. As the door closed behind her, she was faced with a scorching hot room with flames erupting from walls and floors on all sides, piercing yellow eyes staring at her. Cages littered the floors, but they were empty.

            “I knew it, you tricked me!” she shouted and tried to pull away.

            “Calm down. This is merely another corridor of your mind, it is just somewhere more comfortable for the both of us.” He gripped her hand tighter. “Now then, ask me whatever you’d like.”

            “You swear you’ll answer me?” she asked shakily.

            “Within reason.” He responded.

            “What is Dean hiding from me? What Marcus told him.” she asked immediately.

            “That’s a loaded question with loaded answers.” He sighed. “Where do I start?” he asked himself.

            “Wherever you can.” She muttered, not looking at the staring eyes that followed them as they walked.

            “When you were twelve years old, you were rescued by your previous caretaker in the forest. Do you remember that? I was with you, at that young, tender age. However, I looked a tad different.” He saw the strange look on her face. “Anyway, I tortured him. Laid a curse, of sorts, on that bleeding heart of his. I remember what I told him. I said, “Once the girl realizes who she is, there will be no need for you anymore. You will die”, or something along those lines.”

            “You…almost killed him that night…you almost killed him because…” her hand shook in his.

            “I told him who you were. That you were really a Winchester. He accepted that information and just never told you. He knew who you were, and he knew you may be the reason for his death one day. But he loved you anyway.”

            Tears began to stream down her cheeks again, hands trembling, but Astaroth paid no notice.

            “He passed this information on to Dean. He knew that he was going to die, and he trusted your oldest brother to watch for you. He wanted Dean to find out the answers that he couldn’t.” he continued.

            “Dean knew that saving him was futile…and he didn’t tell me…?”

            “Marcus told him everything he could. Like how he met you in the woods when you were only ten. How he followed us every time I came to visit you. All he couldn’t figure out was one thing, and since then, Dean has been watching you like a hawk.”

            “Dean…he kept me in the dark about this all this time?” she suddenly felt like suffocating. “My own brother…he knew…”

            “He also knows what I want…” he stopped and slowly turned his head to look at her. “And all I want, my dear, is you.”

            Once again, she tried to get away from him. Part of her knew that he didn’t say that to seem creepy, but he definitely came off that way.

            “What do you mean…?” she asked.

            They crossed through another door, one where the eyes on the walls were red, not yellow. The fire in this room had receded, and the temperature was more comfortable.

            “I need a bit of a more specific question than that.” He let go of her hand and walked to the opposite end. “Because, my dear, I have wonderful plans for you.”

            “I knew that.” She remembered. “But what for? What are your plans?”

            “It’s too early to tell you, I’m afraid. However, what I can tell you, is that you’re a very special one. I am so fortunate to be working with you, Emily.”

            “Does Dean know what your plans are?” she asked.

            “No.” he smirked. “Not even my own brother knows.”

            The eyes on the wall began to widen, slowly, one by one. The walls alit with fire, and Astaroth looked around with a pleasured grin. As he grinned and raised his arms to the sides, the room began to shake.

            “It seems that we’ve run out of time.”

            “No!” she shouted. “Nononono!” she yanked on her own hair. “I need to know, Astaroth!”

            “You will know when the time is right.” He smirked at her.

            She realized something. “You called yourself the part of my mind that sought out control as your disguise.” Her voice lowered to nearly normal. “That means something! Doesn’t it?!”

            “It only means that I am capable of giving you the control you’re looking for. If I can manipulate your dreams, even show you my own memories, it must mean I am not merely a disguise, now am I?”

            She remembered what Meg told her in Bobby’s home, what she meant when she gestured to her head.

            “We are already one.” He smiled.

            All of the eyes were opened wide, and his hands were raised above his head.

            “I will see you soon, my dear.”

            He lowered his hands quickly, and raised them to create an enormous clap at the same time all of the eyes closed, making the room go black.

 

**Impala Back Seat**

        Emily’s eyes snapped open, positive that she would be met with fire and eyes, but when she was met with the ceiling of the Impala, she bolted upward. She was drenched in sweat, and her skin felt cold. Her breathing was even off, like she had just run a marathon. Out the windows, she saw that they were at a gas station, parked near the storefront.

            _I’m back._

“Em?” she heard from the passenger seat.

            It was Sam, turned around in his seat and looking at her with a concerned expression. She must have looked like a mess.

            “H-how long have I been asleep?” she choked out. Her throat was dry.

            “For a few hours, it’s like, three in the afternoon. Are you okay?” He gave her a quick up-down. “You’re drenched in sweat! What’s wrong?”

            “I uh…” she didn’t want to lie to him. “I had a pretty wicked nightmare, Sam…” she admitted.

            “How bad?” he asked.

            “I…” she looked at the floor and just started to tear up.

            Sam got out of the passenger seat and opened the door opposite hers. Climbing in, he embraced her in the tightest, brotherly hug she had ever experienced. He shushed her, even though he had no idea what she had just learned. Enough experience has taught him that things like these were enough to let her know she was okay.

            “Where’s Dean?” she asked.

            “Bathroom.” He answered bluntly. “We can talk about the nightmare later, if you want. I don’t know what you saw, but—”

            “He knew…” she whispered.

            “What?” Sam looked down at her.

            She shook her head. It wasn’t angrily, and it wasn’t sadly, it was just solid and cold. Sam just looked at her, and she looked out the front windshield, as if she was debating what to say and when. When she had finished her emotional moment, she apologized and wiped her face.

            “You don’t need to apologize for crying, Em. I won’t ever get mad if you have to let it out…don’t you know that?”

            _When Astaroth told me that Dean was watching me like a hawk, which only makes our latest hunt even scarier, does that mean Dean has been looking for me to mess up somehow? And what question is he looking for that Marcus never got the answers to?_

While she was staring off into the distance, deep in thought, Dean had come up to the door and patted the roof of the car jokingly.

            “Hey guys, what’s…” he looked at the both of them, Sam looked back. “What happened?”

            Emily snapped her head over to look at him. “You know what happened.”

            Sam backed out of the car, scared of his sister’s rage. Emily, slowly, stepped out of the vehicle after him, leaving the door open and staring at her confused brother.

            “You knew that Marcus was going to die.” She came right out with it. “He told you everything. He told you, and you didn’t think that kind of thing was important?!”

            Sam looked at their brother in shock.

            “Junior Mint, I—” Dean started.

            “NO!” she cut him off. “You were one of the last people with him! You knew he was cursed, you knew saving him was futile, and you KNEW WHO KILLED HIM!” she couldn’t stop herself from screaming.

            Sam stepped forward to get her to quiet down, but her rage-filled eyes stopped him in his place.

            “I…”

            “What else are you hiding from me, huh?” she smiled in disbelief. “Anything else you’re looking for? Like, I don’t know, something Marcus asked you to pursue? Like some sort of mission that he never had the chance to complete?”

            “How do you know about that?” Dean didn’t even try to hide it.

            “I asked myself.” She felt herself cry again.

            “Asked who?” Dean stepped forward.

            At first, she hesitated. “I asked Astaroth.”

            Sam and Dean were both taken aback.

            “You what?!” Sam asked, wide eyed.

            “He came to me in my nightmare.” She revealed. “He knew that I wanted to find the answers. He knew that I hated myself more and more as I waited for you to just fucking tell me!”

            “What do you mean he came to you?” Dean asked, getting angry.

            “WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK IT MEANS?!” she exploded. “He gave me hints, he led the way to me finding the answers myself. He promised me that if I trusted him, he would answer any of the questions I had.”

            “And you trusted him?!” Dean exploded right back.

            “Why didn’t you just tell me, Dean?!” she cried. “You know what he wants! You know that Marcus was looking for something specific, something that has to do with me! Why didn’t you just let me come to accept the fact it’s my fault my father is dead?!!”

            “That man died for you!” he finally answered. “That demon was ready to take you away, take you away from any sort of future you had. Sure, he’s dead! But you didn’t kill him! Marcus was cursed in order to protect you, and he died trying to protect you, too!” he paused to catch his breath. “He died not knowing where you were going to end up next. All he knew was that you had a connection to that demon. He wanted me to know everything that he told me, everything I needed to know in order to keep _protecting you_. Because Junior Mint, not even _we_ know what’s in store for you, I mean just look at yourself! Talking to demons, uttering to yourself in pain, constantly zoning out, what Marcus said is true! Your connection to that demonic bastard is taking you farther and farther away from us!” Dean explained.

            With balled up fists, she covered her eyes and blubbered, “Why didn’t you just tell me…”

            Slowly, Dean stepped closer to her and hugged her. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to handle it.”

            Knowing he was right, she only shook her head. The answers that she was dying to know so badly, after all the times she told herself to be patient, she just had to break down. The truth was harder than she anticipated.

            “It’s all my fault…it’s all my fault…”

            “No it’s not. No it’s not.” He looked at Sam, regret filling his eyes. “I never should have hidden it from you.”

            She punched his chest, not sure if she wanted to be furious at him or forgive him. Dean stood there and took it, knowing that she had every right to be angry.

            “Come on…” he rubbed her back. “We need to hit the road. We have work to do.”

            Taking a moment to breathe, she collected herself and turned away from him, heading back into the Impala. She didn’t slam the door like a stubborn punk, and she didn’t sob like a child in self-pity. She sat there, facing forward.

            “Dean.” Sam stood next to him. “You did what any older brother would have done.”

            Without waiting for a response, he walked away from Dean. Entering the car, Sam looked into the mirror to see his sister staring back, but then quickly looked away.

            _Sometimes looking for the truth isn’t the most heartwarming option._

She couldn’t tell whether or not that thought was her own.


	15. Reliance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Emily's relationship has become incredibly strained, and the trust they walk on is more fragile than eggshells. Sam has been having more nightmares, and this particular one leads them to another "chosen child" like Sam. Andy. While his powers work just fine on Dean, they appear to have no effect on Emily. While that is puzzling, Astaroth's voice continues to ring loud and clear in her mind. She attempts to ignore it and listen to her brothers, but does that just throw her off of her game?

**Three Days Later: Evening**

_“Have you ever thought to yourself for a long time, and just come to the conclusion that you’re going to just take what you have and roll with it?”_

She was alone in the car, once again at a gas station. Sam had needed to use the restroom, and Dean was in the establishment looking for Tasty Kakes. Closing her eyes, she shook her head. That usually did the trick of shutting up the voice. As she exited the car, she saw her brother exit the store. They gave each other a small smile and a nod. The past few days had been rocky, considering what happened the days prior. However, she thought that her ‘insight’ was correct on this one. Just try to push past it, for her brothers’ sake. Dean knocked and pushed the bathroom door open. Emily cracked her back in the meantime, trying to loosen herself up for the miles ahead. It was kind of fun to not have any particular destination, only for once having a fun road trip. However, her relaxing thoughts were shoved aside when her two hurried brothers pushed themselves into their seats and slammed the doors.

“What’s going on?” she asked, surprised.

Dean motioned for her to get back in the car, which she followed.

“Sam had another vision.” Dean started the engine.

“What?” her eyes widened. “What about?” she buckled up in time with the question.

“Something bad…” Sam huffed. “We need to get to the Roadhouse.”

Dean side-eyed their brother negatively, but he bolted out of the station anyway.

 

**Highway**

As _usual,_ the drive to the Roadhouse was tense and disturbed, ironically at the same time the cover of _Sound of Silence_ came on the radio. Also Disturbed, but a different use of the word. The entire ride, Sam had been sketching the same thing over and over again, on envelopes and notebook paper, and he kept saying it was some sort of logo. Dean and her only made eye contact once, through the mirror, which seemed to be their specialty-gone-bad as of late.

“Sam, about your vision—” she started.

Dean cut her off. “We think you should chill out about this. I mean, haven’t we had enough the past few days?”

He must have meant that to be a joke, but it wasn’t received very well. She furrowed her brows at him.

“ _WE_ believe we should just think about this before bolting to the Roadhouse.” Emily continued. “I know at this point it’s a little too late, but we’re about to step into a cesspool of hungry hungry hunters that will definitely be proven unhappy if they catch wind of this.”

Sam sighed. “I have thought about this. And it’s another premonition, which means it WILL happen, and Ash can tell us where.”

Emily smirked. “Give a gal a laptop and she can do a lot of work in a few hours.” She tried to persuade.

“Well Emily, you haven’t been the most reliable lately.” Sam retorted.

Looking as if she tasted something sour, she sat up straight.

_This bitch._

“Hey, hey, I get it.” He matched Sam’s stare. “Okay, I don’t. But you’re stressed out and you think—”

“—that my vision could have a connection to the demon? Yea, Dean, I do.” Sam finished.

“But that’s why it isn’t the best idea to go to the Roadhouse. If you announce you’re a supernatural freak with a demonic connection, it isn’t going to be received well.” Dean explained.

“Oh, so I’m a freak now?” Sam was clearly offended.

With a sigh, Emily sat back in her seat and decided not to get into it. At least, not right now. Dean slapped Sam’s thigh and smiled, uttering something stupid in order to cover his ass.

 

The Roadhouse’s windows allowed streaks of light to filter onto the outside porch area, where a bunch of motorcycles and gas-guzzlers sat in a make-shift parking area. Emily exited the car and did her usual stretches. In order to avoid conflict, she kept her past woes on the down low, especially with how high strung the brothers were about the other day’s discoveries. Sam and Dean took the charge, walking faster than their pre-planned “act natural” walk. Emily had to slightly jog in order to get into formation, next to Dean in order to look more bad-ass. As they entered the Roadhouse, they were all met with glances and confused stares from any hunters or customers that weren’t expecting their arrival, aka everybody. Some of the edgier looking ones eyed Emily specifically, and she didn’t quite know how to think about that. Jo approached, with her flirtatious smile and her sudden change in walking pattern in order to impress Dean. Sam brushed right past her, while Dean actually stopped to talk to her.

            “Just can’t stay away, can you?” she greeted.

            “Looks like. How you doin’ Jo?” he greeted back. “You seen Ash?”

            “He’s in his back room.” She answered, somewhat disappointed that Dean wasn’t here for her.

            “Thank you Jo.” Emily gave an awkward smile and followed Sam, who was already on his way to Ash’s room.

            “I’m doing great, thanks…” Jo sighed.

            “Sorry Jo.” Dean patted her shoulder. “We’re kind of on a timetable.”

            Emily was not too far behind Sam as they located the little hallway that led to Ash’s room. There was loud music, or some form of television show, blasting in his room. Sam stopped and knocked at the door, with a sign that said “DR. BADASS IS: IN”. Emily looked around the hallway, and Dean came up at her heels.

            “Ash, you in there?” Sam asked.

            Dean grabbed her shoulders suddenly. “Em.”

            Sam knocked again. “Dr. Badass?”

            “Oh, hey Dean—” she was suddenly whipped around away from the door and was being forced to walk.

            The door opened, so she heard, and Sam sounded repulsed immediately. Emily realized that in a strange way, Dean just saved her life. Or at least what was left of her innocence, because based on context clues, she realized that Ash was probably naked, and Sam was met with that dreadful sight when the door opened. Dean pushed her back out into the bar and told her to stay put.

            “Sure.” She replied with a thumbs up, not turning around.

            Ellen saw her, smiled, and gestured for her to take a seat. When Emily did, there was a glass of water placed in front of her.

            “Being dragged around with the boys again?” Ellen rose a brow.

            “Yea.” She smiled. “It’s just another…thing that Sam’s crazy about.” She side glanced some hunters that were watching her.

            “Does it have to do with the demon?” Ellen asked in a hushed tone.

            “Yea, I think so. He won’t tell me…” she took a swig of her water. “But then again, I feel like I don’t have the right to complain.” She laughed to herself, tone dismissive.

            “What makes you say that?” Ellen stopped wiping down a glass with her rag.

            “Well, I…” she trailed off and sighed. “I haven’t been truthful with them lately. I feel bad, because they found out about—” she met Ellen’s stern look and immediately looked away, “—something…in the absolutely wrong way. I took something into my own hands, got mad, and said things…said things that shouldn’t have. I feel like I let them down.”

            “Sweetie, I don’t know what you could have said, or what you did, but you’re their sister.” She added ‘in a weird, supernatural way’ under her breath, “And if I’ve learned anything about those boys, it’s that they value family over anything else. So don’t you worry about it.”

            Dean, Sam, and Ash all walked back into the bar, the brothers looking somewhat traumatized and Ash holding a laptop. That was her cue to slide over a few stools and get involved with the potential case.

            “Ash is gonna track the symbol Sam saw in his vision. Hopefully that’ll get us a match.” Dean patted her back.

            “I love how you think that kind of stuff takes me awhile.” Ash muttered somewhat insulted, looking at Sam’s napkin sketch. “Because I already did find a match.”

            Sam stared at Ash intently, Dean stood behind him, while Emily slid off of her stool and stood between them.

            “It’s the symbol for Blue Ridge bus line in Guthrie, Oklahoma.” Ash confirmed.

            “Okay Ash, do me another favor—can you check for any demonic activity in Guthrie? Signs, omens, anything like that.” Sam asked a little too loudly.

            “You think the demon is in Oklahoma?” Ash asked.

            “Yea, maybe.” Sam realized his mistake.

            “Why would you think that?” Ash asked, even more puzzled.

            “Just check it, all right?” Dean interjected.

            Without another word, Ash got to work. Emily saw Sam and Dean exchange angry glances. Emily did her best to look around the bar, hoping their conversation didn’t attract too much attention.

            “No sir, no demons.” Ash looked at them all.

            “Okay, now try this.” Sam started.

            “Sam—” she tried.

            “Search Guthrie for a house fire. It would be 1983, fire's origin would be a baby's nursery, night of the kid's six month birthday.” Sam didn’t quite get the hint.

            As Ash looked startled, to say the least, Dean caught Jo looking at them as Emily not-so-subtly spotted two other hunters giving them strange looks.

            “Oh my god...” she whispered under her breath.

            “Now man, that’s just weird. Why the hell would I look for that?” Ash asked.

            Sam grabbed a beer and handed it to him. “Because there’s a PBR in it for ya.”

            Ash smirked. “Give me fifteen minutes.”

            A sigh of relief left both Dean and his sister, and the both of them sat down on stools, Sam remaining close to Ash in the process. Emily rested her head on her arms, face just embracing the wooden surface of the bar.

            “While we wait, I was wondering…” she heard Dean say. “You know we haven’t talked in a few days. Not really, anyway.”

            “Whaddaya wanna talk about?” she mumbled.

            “It’s just…” he sighed. “I can’t ignore that you made a deal with a demon.” He said softly.

            “Sorry, I can’t hear you through all of my guilt.”

            “Emily, come on.” Dean looked around and leaned in more, a little angry this time. “We should talk about this.”

            Before Emily could say anything, a song came over the jukebox that interrupted their conversation.

            _Is that REO Speedwagon?_

Slow footsteps seemed to be headed in their direction. She had a prickly feeling it was probably Jo.

            “We’ll talk about this later.” Dean sighed, tone horrified.

            Emily didn’t exactly want to move, but she also didn’t want to really be around Jo’s attempt at wooing her brother. However, out of sheer laziness, she allowed herself to stay and eavesdrop.

            “REO Speedwagon?” Dean asked.

            “Damn right REO. Kevin Cronin sings it from the heart.” Jo replied.

            “He sings it from the hair, there’s a difference.” Dean corrected with a chuckle.

            There was an uncomfortable silence and she felt Jo become a little too close for comfort.

            “Listen…that case you have Ash looking up, your mom died the same way, didn’t she? A fire in Sam’s nursery?”

            _Okay, now we’re definitely a little too close for comfort._

“What about it?” Dean became defensive.

            “I could help.” Jo offered.

            “Thanks Jo, but it’s kind of a family thing.” Dean rejected. “And I’m sure you could, but if I dragged you off with us, your mother might kill me.”

            Sensing the fear in his voice, Emily peeked over her arms to see Ellen’s glare from farther down the bar. She smiled about it.

            “You’re afraid of my mother?” Jo asked.

            “I think so…” Dean muttered between his teeth with a smile.

            _“You don’t know what it’s like to have a mother, do you?”_

            Alarmed by the sudden return of the voice, Emily sat straight up and swallowed a yelp.

            “Good, Emily has the right idea.” She heard Sam say from behind her. “We have a match, we’re leaving.”

            Nodding, startled, she slid off of the stool and took a deep breath. Following Sam, they left Dean to say goodbye to Jo. Sam was tense, a sort of tense she hasn’t seen in awhile.

            “Hey, are you okay?” she asked him.

            “Are you?” he asked back.

            “Hey now, don’t turn this into a me problem. You’re the one with scary visions here.” She retaliated innocently.

            “Again, so are you.” Sam replied.

            “I’m not stating a good case for myself am I?”

            “Nope.”

 

            **On the Moonlit-Highway**

 After being almost-lectured by both of her brothers and Ellen, Emily was beginning to get low-key suspicious of her brothers’ animosity towards her. Were they keeping tabs on her to make sure that Astaroth had no true influence over her? For now, the only thing with influence over her was Dean’s singing of REO Speedwagon, which wasn’t a coincidence. Sam did his best to ignore it, only by bringing up the case information that Ash printed for them.

            “Andrew Gallagher. Born in the same year as me, mother died in a nursery fire 6 months later, also like me.” He sighed.

            “Did the demon kill his mom?” Emily asked while Dean hushed to a dull humming.

            “Sure looks like it.” Sam looked up at the road.

            “How did you know to even look for this guy?” Dean finally focused.

            “Every premonition I've had, if they're not about the demon they're about the other kids the demon visited.” Sam paused for a moment. “Like Max Miller, remember him?”

            “No?” Emily asked, eyebrows scrunched together.

            The brothers looked at each other.

“She wasn’t there for that, we left her at the motel with dad.” Dean replied.

“Oh yea…” Sam turned and looked at Emily. “There was a small case—” Dean flashed him a look. “—Okay, biggish case that we went on without you. Remember when we split for a few days while you did research with dad?”

“Yea, thanks for that.” She scowled. “What about it?”

“We found another kid that the demon…contacted. A person like me, someone who was effected by him. It didn’t end pretty.” Sam got quiet. “We didn’t want to burden you with any more stress, especially with your wounds at the time.” He cleared his throat, which made her eye twitch.

“He had powers? Like you?” looking at Sam, concerned, she found herself leaning front in her seat. “What happened to him?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Dean interrupted. “Max Miller was a pasty little psycho.”

Sam sighed, clearly annoyed. “The point is, he was killing people.” Sam turned back around. “And I was having the same type of visions about him. And now it could be happening all over again with this Gallagher guy.”

“How do we find him?” Dean asked.

Emily took a deep breath and sat back in her seat, head placed against the headrest. This was beginning to give her a headache.

“He still owes money on all of his bills… We’ve got phone, credit, utilities…” Sam sounded surprised.

“Collection agency flags?” Dean asked, expecting a ‘yes’.

“None in the system.” Sam blinked.

“They just let him walk?” Emily asked.

“Uh, I guess so.” Sam handed her back the paper as proof. “We have the address from his last W-2, so we can start there.”

Emily nodded and handed the paper back to Sam, closing her eyes and listening to the hum of the engine.

_Let’s hope they stay distracted long enough so I won’t have to explain myself. The last thing I want to do right now is argue._

 

They ended up driving through the night, per usual. At some point she must have fallen asleep, because when she opened her eyes again, it was morning. Dean looked eerily wide awake, and Sam looked on the verge of passing out.

“Hey, Dean…” she rubbed her eyes. “Do you want me to take over for a while? You need your sleep too.”

“I’m fine, Junior Mint. How’d you sleep?” he looked at Sam, who had finally closed his eyes.

“I didn’t even know I fell asleep.” She smiled and yawned. “Didn’t even dream.”

“Good.” He replied a bit too harshly.

Her smile wavered, and she knew they needed to change the subject as soon as possible.

“What time do you think we’ll get there? I’m dying to get this show on the road.” She looked out her window.

“I’d say another hour.” He looked back at her without her noticing. “How are you feeling?”

She glanced at him, catching his look in the mirror. “Fine.”

“Fine?”

“Yes, Dean, I’m fine. Okay?” she replied bitchily.

“I’m just trying to look out for you.”

“ _I know, that’s your job, right_?” She responded coldly.

“That isn’t what I meant.” He narrowed his eyes.

Regretting her coldness, she sighed. “I know…”

“Listen,” he took his eyes back to the road. “I understand that you’re mad, and it was pretty brutal of me to keep…all that a secret from you. I was just shocked. That’s why I’ve been short with you.”

“Because I technically made a deal with a demon.” She shrugged. “But it’s all that I could do at the time. You weren’t there.” She looked down at her lap.

“That isn’t it. I was shocked that you kept your struggles to yourself; that you didn’t come to us for help. Usually you’re all about the team building stuff. But…you’ve been holding out on stuff just as much as the rest of us.”

_Oh boy honey you don’t even KNOW._

“Junior Mint, I’m gonna be honest. If I was given a chance like that, where I had no other option, I would probably make a deal too. You…Sam…even dad, if he were still here…I would do anything for my family. I understand why you did it.”

_Maybe you do…but I don’t know._

“If it’s any consolation, it was a freebie. He didn’t ask for anything in return.” She shrugged lightheartedly.

Dean’s eyes widened in shock. “What?” 

“Yea. I thought he tricked me too, but no. He didn’t ask for anything. He just gave me information…limited information, mind you, but still.”

Emily watched as Dean seemed to have a moment, as his facial expressions changed rapidly as thoughts zoomed through his head. His eyes darted from the road, to the steering wheel, to her, then back again. She raised an eyebrow.

“Em, can you just do us all a favor?” he asked finally.

“Shoot.”

“Please let us know as soon as something happens to you with Astaroth. Please?”

There was legitimate concern in his voice, and his eyes met hers in the mirror.

“Yea.” She nodded, taken aback by the sudden softness of him.

Sam stirred in his seat, shutting them both up. Now was not the time to talk about her. This was more about Sam, and the people that are like Sam. There were people in danger, including him. This was important to him, so it was time to pay attention.

Coffee Shop, A Few Hours Later

            They broke their suits back out, and damn did Emily’s calves look GREAT in these pants. The heels added an extra measure of awesome to her physique, and she was silently proud of herself. Sam was a little more tense than usual, which was understandable. They were dealing with the yellow-eyed demon, and he was connected to the guy they were after. The coffee that he ordered would hopefully calm him down…or not.

            “Em, aren’t you gonna order any coffee?” he asked her.

            “No, no, it’s okay.” She put up a hand to refuse. “I’m really not a coffee person. If I have to, I’ll get water or something.”

            As if their waitress had read her mind, she came to the table with a tray of two coffees and an added glass of water. Emily blinked in surprise.

            “Two coffees for the gentlemen, and one water for the lovely lady.” She gave a small smile.

            “Thank you.” They all said in unison.

            _Ew, creepy._

“You’re not going to get anything out of Andy, guys. Sorry, but they never do.” She wiped her hands on her apron.

            According to the waitress’ nametag, her name was Tracy.

            “What do you mean ‘they’?” Sam asked.

            “You’re debt collectors, right? Once and a while they come by. I don’t know what Andy says to them, but they never come back.” Tracy explained.

            “Actually, we’re, we’re lawyers.” Dean tried not to stammer. “Representing his great-aunt Leta. She passed, God rest her soul, and left Andy a sizable estate.”

            _Damn Dean, your lies never cease to amaze me._

“Yeah, so are you a friend of his?” Sam asked.

            Tracy glanced toward the window for a second, not wanting to make eye contact.

            “I used to be, yeah. I don’t see much of Andy anymore.”

            Before any of them could ask another question, a man passed by holding a tub of dishes, most likely the busboy. Emily scrunched her nose; something didn’t feel right.

            “You talkin’ about Andy? Andy kicks ass, man!”

            Dean raised his eyebrows. “Is that right?”

            “Yeah. Andy can get you into anything. He even got me backstage at Aerosmith once; it was beautiful, man.”

            _Youth these days. You see people in suits in front of you and that’s how you talk to them?_

She blinked.

            _Wait, I’m a youth._

Tracy glanced at the guy, annoyed. “Why don’t you bus a table or two, Weber?”

            Weber nodded, smile wavering. “Yeah, you bet, boss.”

            Rolling her eyes at him, she looked at the trio again.

            “Look, if you want to find Andy, try Orchard Street. Just look for a van with a barbarian queen painted on the side.”

            Emily coughed on her water. “ _What?”_

“She’s riding a polar bear. It’s kind of hard to miss.”

            Tracy finally walked away, excitement in Emily’s eyes.

            “I wanna see the van.”

            She chugged her water and anxiously waited for her brothers to finish their coffee, Dean purposely going slow to get a rise out of her. When they were finished, Dean paid their bill and they walked back to the Impala. Emily was trying to remain professional, but she couldn’t hide the spring in her step when she thought about the barbarian-queen-themed-van. Dean drove farther down the street, so nobody they just encountered would have to see their wardrobe change. They stripped off their suit jackets and, in their improv-style manner, did a quick change. Emily learned to always wear a black cami under everything, because they would have to change identities frequently. Nobody was ever at risk of seeing anything, and she always made her brothers leave the car to change pants. It was weird, but it worked in the short term.

            “All right, time to make our way to Orchard Street.” She neatly folded her clothes while in the back seat. “Let’s get this show on the road!”

            Sam sat down in the passenger seat, back in his normal wardrobe, and looked back at her.

            “You’re awfully excited just to see a barbarian queen on a van.” He smiled.

            “Okay, listen to “Legend of the Astral Hammer” by Gloryhammer, then come back and talk to me.” She rose her hand at him.

            “Sure, okay.” He turned back around.

           

**Orchard Street, Impala**

        “Oh…my…god…” Emily covered her mouth.

            It was so fucking awesome. It was a mixture of spray paint and acrylic, and she was amazed about how the image could possibly stay on the van in the rain. The woman was muscular, she was powerful, and hot _FUCK_ that polar bear was stellar.

            “Sam, I’m sorry, but I’m starting to like this dude. That van is pretty sick.” Dean smiled, saying what Emily was thinking.

            Sam puckered his face; he clearly wasn’t happy, and both of the siblings noticed that. Dean looked at him, as did their sister, and they exchanged a quick glance before speaking.

            “What’s wrong?” Emily asked.

            “Nothing.” Sam’s response was distant.

            “Sam, you look like you’re sucking on a lemon, what’s going on?” Dean asked.

            “This Andrew Gallagher, he's the second guy like this we've found, Dean. Demon came to them when they were kids, now they're killing people.”

            “Sam, we don’t know what Andrew Gallagher is…he could be innocent.” Emily tried soothing him.

            “I appreciate your optimism, but my visions haven’t been wrong yet.” He replied.

            “What’s your point?” Dean asked.

            “My point is,” he looked at him in the eye. “I’m one of them.”

            “No, you’re not.” Dean narrowed his eyes.

            “Dean, the demon said he had plans for me and children like me.” Sam said.

            “Yeah?”

            “Yeah, maybe this is his plan, maybe we're all a bunch of psychic freaks, maybe we're all supposed to be—” Sam was going off on a tangent.

            “What, killers?” Dean finished.

            “So the demon wants you goin’ out there and killing people with your mind? Is that it? You’re not a murderer! Sam, you don’t have it in your bones!” Emily responded sisterly.

            “No?” he turned to look at her. “Last time I checked, I kill lots of things.”

            “Those things were asking for it, there’s a difference.” Dean replied angrily.

            During their argument, Emily peeked back out her window to see Andy exiting a building. He was wearing pajamas with a satin robe on top…embroidered with dragons.

            “Hey, shut the fuck up, look.” She smacked both of them on the shoulders.

            The brothers looked out the left side of the Impala to see Andy turned to look up to the second-story window, at a woman who was barely clothed. She blew him a kiss and he caught it, winking up at her.

            “What the fuck?” she whispered.

            Andy continued down the street and greeted a man holding a coffee. They seemed to have a delightful conversation, because the man happily gave Andy his coffee. As he drank his newly acquired beverage, he was stopped by a jolly, larger built African American man. They shook hands and hugged. Suddenly, Sam perked up.

            “That’s him, the older guy. That’s the shooter.” He patted Dean’s shoulder.

            “Okay, you keep on him. Em and I will stick with Andy. Go.”

            Sam dashed out of the car, Emily taking his place in the passenger seat. She buckled herself in, and Dean watched carefully while Andy got into his van. Sam was good enough at being subtle, so following his target would hopefully go well. Andy started his van and drove off, Dean starting the Impala in pursuit.

            “Look like you’re distracted, so it doesn’t look like he has a team tailing him.” He instructed.

            “Aye-aye.” She pretended to look like a bored teenager, resting her chin on her fist like she would rather _die_ than be there. “Like this?”

            “Perfect.” He winked.

            For a few minutes, they followed Andy through the winding roads of town. Dean kept a fair distance away, because they knew they would be able to see the barbarian-queen from a mile away if they lost him.

            “Do you think Sam’s doing okay?” she asked, side-glancing him.

            “Sam can get it done.” He nodded, noticing the decrease in speed up ahead. “Shit, he might be onto us.”

            “I would say act natural, but that would sound stupid.” She mumbled.

            Andy’s van came to a stop at the left side of the road, and they could see him glance at them in his left side mirror. He got out and greeted them with a smile. Dean had a handgun tucked into the side of his jacket, which he didn’t want Emily to see. She did anyway.

            “Hey.” Andy leaned down to the window.

            “Hey hey.” Dean greeted.

            Emily decided to stay silent.

            “This is a cheery ride.” Andy stroked the Impala’s exterior.

            “Yea, thanks.”

            “Man, the ’67? Impala’s best year if you ask me. This is a serious classic.”

            “Yea. You know, I just rebuilt her too.” Dean smiled with pride.

            “Yea?”

            Emily watched Andy closely. He seemed rather confident, eerily calm.

            “Yea, can’t let a car like this go.” Dean patted the steering wheel.

            “Damn straight.” Andy paused. “Hey. Can I have it?”

            “Sure, man.” Dean grinned.

            “WHAT?” Emily blurted out.

            If she had a drink, she would have spit it out. Andy flashed a look at her, as if he was targeting her. Dean got out of the car smiling, absolutely ready to _give up his BABY_.

            “Come on, Emily. Outta the car.” Dean told her.

            “No way! Are you crazy?” she yelled at him.

            Andy looked at her through the open door. “Your bro and I just worked out a deal, so, yea. Could you get out of the car?” he was oddly polite.

            “ _No_.” she looked him in the eyes threateningly.

            Andy’s smile disappeared for a split second, a mixture of panic and confusion clouding his eyes.

            “Don’t you want to get out of the car and join your brother on the street?” he asked again.

            “I don’t think I stuttered, buddy. The answer is _no_.” she crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes.

            Andy’s slight panic turned into full panic, so he stood back up with a smile.

            “Hey man, could you get your sister out of the car?”

            “No problem!” Dean made his way to the passenger side and opened the door.

            “Dean—” she was grabbed by the upper arm and pulled. “DEAN!”

            “Come on Junior Mint, we have stuff to do.” He told her.

            “Snap out of it, this is _YOUR CAR_ —DID YOU JUST UNBUCKLE ME?” she shouted.

            She was yanked out of the passenger seat and onto the street to join her brother, who was still smiling. Although he was smiling, he also looked extremely confused. Now that she was out of the car, Andy was free to take it.

            “Dude, what the fuck, let go of me!” her brother’s grip was like an iron clasp.

            “Thanks guys!” Andy started the engine and pulled away, a giddy expression on his face.

            When he was out of sight, Emily pulled harder.

            “DUDE.”

            Dean let go immediately. “Oh crap, I’m sorry—”

            “What was that?!” she stepped away, rubbing her arm.

            “I…I don’t know!” he paced around. “I really didn’t want to give him the car!”

            “So why did you?” she looked at him, still frustrated.

            His eyes darted around. “We need to look for Baby.”

            Emily was hesitant.

            “Em, come on—” he went to grab her arm again, but she retreated. “Em?”

            “I can just follow behind you. Lead the way.”

            He wanted to apologize, but she put her hand up before he could get the words out. Dean nodded and started walking, his sister close behind.

            “Where do you think he went with it?” she asked.

            “I have no idea.” He looked around frantically. “But he won’t leave town.”

            Suddenly, Dean’s phone began to ring. While they turned the corner, he picked up. Emily didn’t hear what the person on the other end said, but it was probably Sam.

            “I know!” he groaned. “He just sorta asked me for it and I, I let him take it.”

            Emily kept her eyes out for the Impala, while Dean was pacing around.

            “He full-on Obi-Wanned me.” Dean said. “It’s mind control, man!”

            _Of course! That makes sense. But why wasn’t I…_

Her thought process was interrupted when Dean started shouting on the phone, more precisely, Sam’s name over and over, then suddenly going silent.

            “We’re on our way.” He hung up.

            “What’s going on?” she asked.

            “Dr. Jennings is dead. Hit by a bus.” He started looking at the storefronts. “Help me look for the gun store. Sam is by there.”

            “Okay.” She nodded, the duo starting to jog around.

            They got there just as Jennings’ body was being placed in a body bag, which was not a pretty sight. The event had drawn a crowd, but Sam was sitting on the curb, trying to look away. As soon as the siblings found him, they joined him in order to calm him down. Emily took a seat on the curb next to him, while Dean kneeled behind him with a hand on his back. Sam was upset, and that was clear. His vision came true, and he worked so hard to have it not.

            “I kept him out of the gun store, but…” he sighed. “I should have stayed with him.”

            “You tried your best, Sam. That’s all anyone could ever ask for.” Emily tried to comfort him.

            “But I was too late.”

            “Sam, all that we can do now is to keep working, keep trying to prevent something like this from happening again.” She narrowed her eyes in determination.

            “But first, we need to find Baby.” Dean added.

            Emily smiled. “I think I have an idea.”

 

**Outside Coffee Shop, Across The Street**

        As Emily thought, the Impala was left abandoned outside the coffee shop. Dean, as if re-uniting with the love of his life, sprinted forward in order to hug it.

            “Oh thank god! Oh, I’m sorry, Baby. I’ll never leave you again!” he scowled as he looked at the ignition. “Well, at least he left the keys in it.”

            “Yea, real Samaritan, this guy.” Sam rolled his eyes.

            “Well,” Dean sighed. “It looks like he can’t work his mojo just by twitching his nose, he needs to use verbal commands.”

            “Jennings had just gotten off of his cell phone before he walked into the street…Andy must have called him or something.” Sam deduced.

            Dean looked unsure. “I dunno…maybe…”

            Sam blinked in surprise. “Excuse me?”

            “What he means is…” she glanced at Dean. “He might not be our guy.”

            “Dean had O.J. convicted before he even stepped out of his white Bronco.” He pointed at him. “And now he has doubts about this?”

            “He just doesn’t seem like the killer type, you know?” Dean scratched his head. “And in my defense, O.J. was guilty.”

            “How are we gonna track this guy?” Sam sighed, annoyed.

            “Did you listen to that song yet, Sam?” there was a glint in Emily’s eye.

            “What?”

            “LE-GEND, OF THE ASTRAL HAMMER!” she drummed on her thighs and let out a barbarian cry.

            The brothers looked at each other and Dean laughed.

            “The van.”

 

**“Cool-Ass Barbarian Van”**

The van was parked a few streets over, the painted glory of the polar bear catching their eyes before they could approach. Since it wasn’t exactly an inconspicuous ride, it was easy to find. They actually felt stupid that they had to ask how they would track Andy, with a ride like this. Since the back was locked, or at least that’s what they assumed, Dean brought a crowbar with him and pried the doors open. His eyes widened.

“Oh my god.”

There was a tiger painted on the wall, a disco ball hanging from the ceiling, fur rugs covering the floor, and a hoard of thick books littered around the space. In the corner, there lied a massive, _massive_ bong. Dean started chuckling in disbelief, and Sam just looked confused as all hell.

“This.” Dean gestured to the interior. “This is amazing. Magnificent in fact. Not exactly a serial killer’s lair, though. There’s no clown paintings on the walls, no scissors stuck in victims’ faces…”

“I like the tiger.” Emily chimed in.

Sam picked up some of the books and squinted at them.

“Hegel, Kant, Wittgenstein? That's some pretty heavy reading, guys.”

“Yea, and Moby Dick’s bong.” Dean picked it up and laughed.

“So either Andy’s a murderer, a stoner, or a murder-stoner.” She raised an eyebrow. “It’s like I’m in Topton all over again.”

“What?” the brothers asked, surprised.

“You know, Brandywine was pretty shady—”

“Stop, stop, we don’t wanna know.” Dean cut her off. “But what do we do now?”

“We need to regroup.” Sam answered with a sigh. “Try to figure this out…”

“Which means we need to get out of sight so we don’t look like we’re robbing a civilian’s van.” She suggested.

 

**Impala, Vacant Lot, Lunchtime**

        The smell of cheeseburgers and hot dogs wafted around the interior of the Impala, the windows being rolled down to provide some air. Sam crinkled his nose occasionally, which only made his siblings waft the smell of food in his direction more. Emily held the “trash bag”, which was just a Wendy’s bag, in the back seat, where she collected all of the food that Dean wasn’t able to finish. Of course she said she threw it away, but she ate it. On the down low, obviously.

            “Geez,” he tossed half of a cheeseburger into Emily’s bag. Jackpot. “I can’t wait for the day where I can eat a meal that doesn’t have to be heated up at a minimart.”

            “But the speed and accessibility is amazing.” She eyeballed the burger quickly. “Red meat is my passion, Dean.”

            “I’d like you to do me a favor and never say that out loud in my presence again.” He replied.

            “What I don’t understand is motive.” Sam suddenly chimed in, who had been looking at the case file the entire time. “I mean, the doctor was squeaky clean. I don’t get why Andy would waste him.”

            “If it even is Andy.” She craned her neck around the seat to look at the file.

            “Dude—”

            “She’s right, Sam.” Dean agreed.

            “The doctor was _mind controlled in front of a bus_ , and Andy just happens to have mind control. You guys do the math.”

            “I just don’t think the guy has it in him, that’s all.” Dean shrugged.

            “Well, how the hell would you know? I mean, why are you bending over backwards defending him?” Sam argued.

            “Sam, how do you even know for sure that he’s the murderer? Yea, he might have powers, but that doesn’t mean that he’s automatically the killer.” Emily tried. “I think you’re too emotionally invested in this right now.”

            Uh oh.

            “ME? Emotionally invested in a case?” Sam laughed in disbelief.

            “Come on guys, don’t start. We’re not even talking about Andy anymore—” Dean pushed Emily away from Sam.

            Thankfully, the argument was interrupted by the slamming of hands on Sam’s side of the car. They turned to see Andy eyeballing them all in frustration.

            “Hey! You think I haven’t seen you three?!” he shouted. “Why are you following me?”

            This time, Emily heard something reverberate off of his sentence. She knew his powers, and she had experienced them before, but she didn’t feel this level of intensity when he was trying to steal the Impala. Through the rearview mirror, she could see Dean react strangely. He had heard it too.

            “Well, we’re lawyers.” Sam answered calmly. “One of your relatives passed away--”

            “ _Tell the truth!”_ Andy shouted, the reverberation getting louder.

            Sam narrowed his eyes. “I am—”

            This was much more powerful; she could hardly keep words hidden. However, something in her was much stronger than her brother.

            “We hunt demons.” Dean smiled, eyes filled with distress.

            “What?” Andy asked.

            “Dean!” Sam exclaimed.

            “Demons and spirits. Stuff your worst nightmares wouldn’t touch. This here’s Sam, he’s my older brother. Our younger sister’s sitting in the back, that’s Emily. Age difference? Yea, we know, it’s kind of weird.”

            “Dean, shut up!” Sam shouted.

            “I’m trying.” He swallowed, sweat accumulating on his forehead. “He's psychic. Kind of like you. Well, not really like you, but see, he thinks you're a murderer, and he's afraid that he's going to become one himself, 'cause you're all part of something that's terrible. And I hope to hell that he's wrong, but I'm starting to get a little scared that he might be right. And then Emily—”

            “NONONONO!” Emily leapt forward and covered his mouth, sleeve protecting her hand from any spit.

            “Okay, you know what, just leave me alone.” Andy shook his head and stuck his hands out, confused and annoyed.

            “Okay.” Dean had been able to push his sister off somehow, turning his head.

            “All right?” Andy repeated.

            Dean held his head and cringed. Andy began walking away from the car, and Sam slammed the door behind him to follow. Emily stayed behind to help Dean break out of the mojo.

            “What are you doing? Look, I, I said leave me alone. All right? Get out of here, just start driving and never stop.” Andy panicked.

            “Doesn’t seem to work on me Andy.” Sam narrowed his eyes.

            “What?”

            “You can make people do things, can’t you? Tell people how to think.” Sam approached him slowly.

            With Dean out of the mojo, he and Emily stepped out of the Impala. She took the chance to stand in front of him like a shield, but no way in hell was that ever going to work. Sam stuck his hand out to stop them, as if he were trying to tame a wild animal. At this point, Andy resembled a deer in the headlights.

            “That’s crazy…” Andy shook his head.

            “It all started happening a few months ago, right? Little stuff at first, but then you got better at controlling it?” Sam asked.

            “How do you know that?”

            “Because my mother died in a fire too, Andy. I have abilities, you see, we’re connected, you and me.” Sam was trying to inch closer.

            “You know what? Just, just, just, just get out of here, all right?!”

            Now he resembled a deer that just got smacked by the headlights.

            “Why did you tell the doctor to walk in front of a bus?” Sam asked.

            “What?!”

            Sam flinched, even though there was nothing that could have threatened him. The other two siblings noticed this.

            “Why did you kill him?” Sam started to cringe.

            “Sam?” Dean walked past his sister. “Sam!”

            Sam was having a vision, and a pretty nasty one by the looks of it. His eyes were clamped shut, and all Andy could do was watch in confusion. Emily walked forward as well, but mostly towards him, not Sam. Dean helped their brother to fall gently onto the asphalt, instead of hurtling towards it like he could have. She turned to Dean to make sure all was okay for the moment, that to which he nodded. Emily turned back to look at Andy, who was visibly shaken up.

            “I didn’t do anything to him.” He told her.

            “I know, Andy.” She nodded, but muttered softer. “Don’t worry about it, okay?”

            “Sam, what is it? What did you see?” Dean asked, patting Sam’s shoulders.

            His eyes were slowly becoming less clenched, but he still looked upset.

            “A woman. A woman burning alive.” He shook his head painfully.

            Andy went to step away, or maybe even forward, but Emily grabbed his jacket, only for a moment, to keep him there. He looked down at her, confused, but she just watched Sam and Dean.

            “It was at a gas station, a woman is gonna kill herself.” Sam slowly stood up with Dean’s assistance.

            “What do you mean going to? What is—”

            Emily cut Andy off by shushing him, before Sam could shout something like “shut up”. That kind of response wouldn’t get them anywhere.

            “She gets triggered by a call on her cell.” Sam’s glare shot daggers into Andy. “But as long as we keep our eyes on this son of a bitch, he won’t be able to hurt her.”

            “But I didn’t do anything.” Andy narrowed his eyes.

            “Not _yet_.” Sam spat.

            Before the other siblings could interject, they all heard sirens blaring down the road, and all four of them turned toward it with widened their eyes. After two fire engines zoomed past their field of view, Dean sprinted to the Impala without a word to follow them. Sam began to pace, watching as his brother sped away in pursuit. Emily let out a sigh and watched him, because of course she knew he thought it was his fault.

            “Sam just take a breath, Andy’s right here.” She tried to calm him.

            “Yea man, I didn’t do anything!” Andy shouted.

            “Shush.” She hit his arm.

            Andy looked up at Sam, then back down at her. He repeated this a few times in frustration until Sam’s phone rang in his pocket.

            “Dean, what’d you find?” Sam asked.

            His chin rose and eyes narrowed.

            “I don’t know, all right? I can’t control them! I don’t know what the hell is going on, Dean.” He paused. “But that doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t.” he looked at Andy. “Okay. Let me know if you can find anything there.”

            “I think you’re off the hook, buddy.” She said to Andy with a smile.

            “Off…the hook?” he looked at her again. “But…that means a woman is dead…right?”

            “Yea.” Sam said sadly. “That’s right.”

            “Oh man…” Andy sat on the ground. “That means you just saw her die?”

            Emily sat diagonally from him. “What matters is that you weren’t the one responsible, and you’re the one that’s still alive.”

            He took a breath and looked up at Sam. “So you get death visions?”

            Sam slid his phone back into his pocket and nodded. “Yep. Except this time, it came too late.” He sat down as well, creating a triangle where they sat.

            “That’s impossible.” He shook his head, which made Sam laugh.

            “Most people would say the same thing about what you can do.”

            “But mine is like a gift, like I just won the lotto!” he smiled briefly. “I can get anything I want, and it’s really easy. I would rather have this instead of…death visions. You know?”

            “Andy,” Emily started. “You say you could get anything you wanted, but you still live in your van. Why haven’t you tried something different, or gotten a nicer standard of living?”

            “Well…” he looked at her, then the ground. “I already have everything I need.”

            She wasn’t shocked about what he said, but it made her heart feel warm. Sam smiled at him.

            “You really aren’t a killer, huh?”

            “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you!” Andy laughed.

            As all three of them shared a moment of tender happiness, Emily couldn’t help but view Andy as her family as well. Being targeted by a force that was beyond him, as well as just being an all-around nice guy. It was comfortable. But of course, the comfort never lasted for long. As Dean pulled up to them in the Impala with a sour look on his face, she knew that it was about time to get back to being serious.

            “Dean.” She stood up as he exited the car. “What did you find?”

            “Victim’s name was Holly Becket, forty-one, single.” He said as the other two stood.

            Sam looked at Andy. “Who is she?”

            He shrugged. “I’ve never heard of her.”

            Dean looked at him too. “I talked to Ash on my way back over here, and he came up with a little something. Apparently, Holly Becket gave birth when she was eighteen years old, back in 1983. The same day you were born, Andy.”

            “Andy, were you adopted?” Sam asked.

            “Well, yeah.” He responded as if it were common knowledge.

“And you didn’t think to mention that?” Dean asked.

            “Dean, it never came up.” Emily gave him a look of warning.

            “ _Sometimes it only comes up when something exciting happens.”_ Something told her.

            Usually whenever the voice spoke to her, she was able to write it off. It affected her, but she was able to cope with it. However, _this_ particular comment threw her off. It was a more personal attack than the ones. Even the comment the voice made about her mother, she was able to ignore it because she had already come to terms with the subject. But _this._ This was still a fresh wound. The voice knew that. It was trying to get her attention. It was like it was saying “listen to me, you need to pay attention”.

            _Exciting?_

“Emily.” Dean shook her one shoulder and she gasped.

            “What?” she blinked rapidly. “I’m sorry, I was thinking—”

            “It’s okay.” He narrowed his eyes. “We’re going to the county office to look at the sealed records. Are you good?”

            She looked at Andy and Sam, who seemed to be waiting on her.

            “I can finish the job.” She let out a deep breath. “Let’s go, don’t wait on me.” She walked to the Impala and got into her seat, Andy next to her.

            _“Oh goodie. You know how much I love excitement.”_

**Records Office**

        Deep breathing really comes in handy when it’s actually used. Despite comments she continued to hear in her head, she kept her head in the game about the job. Andy had gotten them into the records room without much of a hassle; the security guard even gave them the boxes of files they were looking for. The siblings sat at a table rifling through them while Andy worked his magic.

            “Listen, I shouldn’t have let you kids in here…” the guard said nervously.

            “No, no.” Andy patted his back. “It’ll be fine, just go get some coffee.”

            Dean and Emily chuckled because of how well it worked.

            “These are not the droids you’re looking for…” Andy said at them dramatically.

            “Guys, I found it.” Sam told them, unaffected by the joke. “Andy, it’s true.” He looked up. “Holly Beckett was your birth mother.”

            “Huh.” He was visibly surprised. “Anybody got a Vicodin?”

            Sam continued. “Dr. Jennings was her doctor, he oversaw the adoption. You have a solid connection to both of them.”

            “But I didn’t kill them.”

            “We believe you.” Emily reassured.

            Dean nodded in agreement but then asked “Who did?”

            Sam sighed. “I have a pretty good idea. Holly Beckett gave birth to twins.”

            Andy looked as if a rock flew into his chest, because he stepped back in surprise with eyes widened. He looked at each sibling, and then slowly lowered himself to the floor.

            “Andy?” Emily asked.

            “Sam, would we be able to get the other guy’s files? Could we print ‘em?” Dean asked.

            Sam stood and left the room briefly, she assumed to get permission to call someone or use the printer. Dean took over Sam’s position and rifled through files. Emily looked at Andy, who was noticeably pale and sweating. With a sigh, she closed her file and joined him, sitting across from him and against the wall.

            “I have an evil twin…” he mumbled.

            _Maybe he can gain some solace from someone else who’s just as confused…_

            “You know, Andy…” she tried making eye contact with him, but he had his hands on his head, blocking them. “I never knew my birth mother. I didn’t know my real dad until…just a while ago. I didn’t even know Dean and Sam were my brothers until this year…and I’m seventeen.”

            “Whoa.” He didn’t seem emotional, just numb. “There’s some age difference there. Do you…have powers too? Like your brother?”  
            Dean’s eyes bolted upward. Emily didn’t see.

            “I honestly don’t know, Andy. But what I do know is that there’s something else, equally as terrible, stirring up inside of me because of what happened to my adoptive father.”

            “Is he…?”

            “Yes.” She nodded. “So you and I aren’t so different. I lost my parents. Both sets. But out of it, I met Sam and Dean. I’m still here, helping people like you. You can’t lose hope, Andy. You were given a gift, not a curse, but it’s up to you how you use it.”

            Sam came back with files in his hands, nodding at Dean.

            “Sorry to interrupt your pow-wow here, but are you still with us, Andy?” Dean asked, walking to the printer.

            “Yea,” he sat up. “But, uh, what’s my brother’s name?”

            “Ansen Weems,” Sam replied, squinting at a file. “He’s got a local address.”

            “He lives here?”

            “We can take a look at him.” Dean helped Emily stand back up. “We’re getting the files from the DMV now.

            As the papers came through the printer, he handed some off to his sister, who raised her eyebrows when she saw the image.

            “You’re kidding.” She whispered.

            “Hate to kick you while you’re freaked, but…take a look at this.” Dean passed the papers to Andy.

            “Is that…Weber?!” he stood in shock.

            “Andy, is there anybody that you can think of that he would harm? Anybody?”

            He thought for a moment, and it looked as if he imagined somebody. However, he said nothing. All of them came to a similar conclusion: Tracy the waitress. The siblings rounded up their papers as fast as possible and left the records room, Andy close behind. They packed into the Impala, trying to question Andy at the same time. In the back seat, she watched him try to make connections and his facial expressions continuously changed. Dean started on the road for the coffee shop, all of them hoping to catch Weber in time.

            “All right Andy, tell us everything you know about this guy. He says he really knows you, and you obviously know him.” Sam turned to look at him.

            “Well, it isn’t much, I…” he looked at his lap, searching for words. “Weber showed up about…8 months ago? Acted like we were best friends in the world, it was kind of weird. It was like he was trying too hard, you know?”

            “He must have known you were twins.” Dean confirmed, looking at the road.

            Emily noticed Sam having a moment in the front seat, rubbing his eyes and clenching his teeth.

            “Why did he change his name? Why didn’t he tell the truth?” Dean asked.

            “No idea.” Andy shrugged.

            Sam cried out in pain, startling everybody in the car.

            “Sam?” Dean asked.

            “It might be another vision.” She warned them. “Sam! Who is it?”

            Ignoring them, he began to struggle with the door handle, all the while shouting in panic.

            “Dean, slow down!” she shouted. “Sam!”

            Dean slammed on the brakes and the car came to a halt in the nick of time, because Sam was able to finally grip the handle to open it. Only he shoved it open, still panicking, leaning out of it. The other siblings leapt out of the car, Andy remaining inside. Sam was sweating profusely, and he wasn’t able to form coherent sentences. Dean grabbed his shoulders, trying to snap him out of it.

            “Tracy…” Sam said aloud in pain. “He’s got Tracy…”

            “Where, Sam? You gotta tell us where!” Emily told him.

            “Bridge…” he let out a pained breath. “He’s going to tell her to jump…”

            “Andy!” Dean shouted.

            Andy opened his door. “What is it?”

            “Is there a bridge nearby? A big one, one that someone—”

            “Don’t finish that, Dean.” Emily said. “Andy, bridge. Where and how close?”

            “Just a few miles down the road, it connects to a dam. Why, what did he see?”

            Without answering him, Sam straightened up and leveled his breathing again. He nodded at his siblings, who took the signal and got back into their seats. Swiveling his legs back into the car, he closed the door and let them get on their way. Dean stepped on the gas and sped down the road, most definitely breaking the speed limit.

            “Andy, do you have any idea if there’s some kind of back road or something we can use to get some distance on Weber?” Emily asked.

            “I…I’m not sure.” He replied. “He has Tracy, doesn’t he?”

            The siblings made eye contact through the mirror and nodded.

            “We’ll get to her in time.”

            As they drove, they could see a bridge in the distance, connected to a dam. They agreed to remain a good distance away, but they still needed to be able to see Weber. Sam pointed out a side road that would take them directly to it, but not in the path of danger. The Impala immediately turned down the road, knocking around the riders in the process. Their path also held height to it, which meant they would be able to get the jump on Weber if possible. When the Impala rolled to a stop, all four of them jumped out. Dean opened the trunk and distributed weapons.

            “Dean, you should stay back.” Sam told him.

            “No argument here.” He gladly accepted. “I’ve had my head screwed around with enough for one day. I’ll snipe from up here.”

            Emily received a handgun and slid it in the waistband of her jeans.

            “You too, Em.” Sam instructed.

            “Sam, it doesn’t work on me. I’m going down with you.” She narrowed her eyes.

            “It’s true.” Andy backed her up. “I haven’t been able to affect her the entire time you’ve been here. She’ll be safe with us.”

            “Us?” Sam looked at him.

            “I’m coming too. Don’t try to argue, it’s Tracy out there. I’m not giving up hope that I can help.”

            Suddenly, a particular stench arose in Emily’s nostrils.

            _“What is it, darling? What do you smell?”_

“Weber’s here.” She turned her head toward the edge of the bridge, where she assumed Tracy would eventually jump. “He’s got Tracy with him. We need to act fast.”

            The trio began their sneaky travel to the small car that sat on the bridge, which they knew had to be Weber’s. Andy stayed mostly on Emily’s heels, while Sam was going on the immediate offensive.

            “Emily, Andy, when I approach him, get Tracy out of the car. Get her as far away as you can. Got it?”

            They both nodded. Only a few feet away from the vehicle, they stayed as low as possible so they wouldn’t be given away. The duo kneeled on the passenger side of the car, listening. They could hear Tracy trying not to cry, her whimpering getting Andy’s attention right away.

            “It’ll be fine. I promise.” She whispered.

            Suddenly, they heard the shattering of a window on the other side of the car. Tracy screamed, and that was their cue to get her out. They stood and yanked the door open, grabbing her arms and watching Sam keep Weber at bay.

            “Come on Tracy, it’s okay. Come here, come here.” Andy coaxed her.

            She didn’t want to have to grab Tracy’s arms, but she didn’t know what orders she had been given.

            “I can’t control myself!” Tracy confirmed Emily’s previous thought.

            “I know Tracy, I know.” She rubbed her arms now to try to calm her. “He can’t hurt you now, you’re going to be okay…”

            Tracy started hiccupping, tears unable to leave her eyes.

            _Did he tell her to stop crying and now she literally can’t?_

In the meantime, Andy decided to duct-tape Weber’s mouth shut. Sam did the honors of pinning him to the ground beforehand, but now he was trying to get Andy _away_ from Weber.

            “I’m going to kill you!” Andy shouted, kicking his twin in the stomach.

            Emily, still holding onto Tracy’s arm slightly, could feel her shaking. She looked over to her brother and Andy, who were now no longer physically fighting their target. However, she looked down at Weber. He was staring right at her, frustrated.

            _“You’re quite the center of attention now, dear.”_

“Tracy.” She whispered. “What did he tell you in the car?”

            Staring right at Weber’s eyes, she could feel the same kind of reverberation Andy had used in his words, but she couldn’t “hear” it. It was like there was a wall protecting her mind. She saw his pupils shift to Tracy.

            _He can use his power without talking. Tracy--!_

Tracy pulled herself from Emily’s grip and stumbled for a large tree branch on the ground. She gripped it and ran at Sam.

            “Tracy!” Emily chased her.

            She hit Sam on the back of the neck with the large branch, hands shaking and face twisted in confusion. Sam went down, face first into the ground, unconscious. Andy looked up at her in shock, while Emily ran past her to her brother’s aid.

            “Tracy stop! I SAID STOP IT!” Andy shouted.

            Tracy looked at him in fear and dropped the stick, backing away in the process.

            “Sam? Sam!” Emily turned him, trying to wake him, but to no avail.

            Andy nor Weber were interested in Sam anymore, as Weber removed the duct tape from his mouth and stood up.

            “How did you do that?” Andy asked.

            “Practice, bro. If you would just practice, you would know. Sometimes you don’t have to use your words. If you had to,” he smirked and pointed to his forehead. “All you need is this. Sometimes the headache’s worth it.”

            Andy grabbed Weber and screamed in his face.

            “You’re a twisted son of a bitch!”

            “Back off, Andy.” Weber’s eyes darkened. “Or else Tracy does a little flying.”

            Both Emily and Andy turned to look at the edge of the bridge in horror to see Tracy standing there, ready to jump.

            _Dammit! I can’t make it over there before he tells her to jump!_

“I’m stronger than you.” Weber threatened. “I can do it.”

            Sam began to lightly move, so she set his shoulders down gently. It was more important to save Tracy’s life right now. The gun in her waistband was pressing into her side, begging her to use it. However, she didn’t know how many people Weber could control at once, and she knew that _he_ knew there was no use trying to control her.

            “Okay, okay, please, just don’t hurt her.” Andy begged, letting go.

            “Just don’t be mad at me, okay?” Weber pleaded. “I know it’s all wrong, I didn’t mean for all of this to happen, it’s just…Tracy? She’s trying to get between us, man!”

            Emily slowly stood up, trying not to draw attention to herself.

            _How am I gonna talk Tracy out of jumping without pissing off Weber?_

_“I can protect you.”_

Her breath caught in her throat.

            “You’re crazy.” She heard Andy say to Weber.

            _It isn’t myself that I want to protect. It’s Tracy._

            _“But I want to protect YOU.”_

“I mean, when you find out you have a twin,” Andy continued, “you call him up, take him out for a drink, you don’t start killing people!”

            _If I walk over there, no matter what you do to protect ME, he’s going to kill Tracy._

_“Don’t you want to trust me?”_

            “Andy, I wanted to tell you for so long…but he wouldn’t let me.” Weber pleaded with him.

            “Who?” Andy asked, disgust residing in his tone.

            “The man with the yellow eyes.”

            Her eyes darted to the twins and Sam stirred on the ground. Weber was smiling, as if he was proud to finally talk about it. As if he was proud to be a sample of this madness, staring at his terrified twin.

            “He came to me in a dream. He said I was special, that he had big plans for me. Wait until you see what’s in store, Andy! For both of us! He’s the one who told me about you, that I had a twin!”

            “Why did you kill our mother? And why Dr. Jennings?” Andy asked.

            “Because they split us up! They ruined our lives, Andy! We could have been together this whole time. Instead of alone. I couldn't, I couldn't let them do that, I couldn't let them get away with that. No.”

            There was a shuffling behind them.

            _Dean._

Weber turned his head slowly, toward the noise.

            _DEAN!_

As Weber smiled, she felt a sensation in her that caused her to step toward him. He was looking right up at Dean’s sniper position. She passed Sam, who was still on the ground.

            “I see you.”

            _“EMILY IF YOU’RE GOING TO TRUST ME, DO IT NOW!”_

She planted her right foot forward and that very same sensation welled up, needing to explode.

_“STOP, WEBER.”_ She commanded.

            The voice that came out wasn’t exactly hers. In shock, he turned his head back to look at her, eyes wide. His smile was still halfway formed on his face.

            “Are you…like us?” he asked.

            Before she could respond, a gunshot rang out. Weber convulsed, his eyes staring back at her until he began his face-first descent to the ground. Emily turned her head to her left to see Andy, gun in hand, shaking like a leaf. Seeing what he had done, he lowered it slowly and looked at her.

            “Andy—” her voice cracked, startling her.

            Andy put his gun into his waistband and turned away from her, running over to Tracy instead. Tracy had stumbled away from the bridge’s ledge and onto solid, safe ground. In a heap, she was sobbing in fear.

            “GET AWAY FROM ME!” Tracy screamed.

            Emily watched sadly as Andy, even though he was being screamed at, helped her to her feet so she could sit on the car. To her left, Sam was once again on his feet and had taken a good look at what happened.

            “Em…what happened?” he asked her.

            “Andy shot him.” She confirmed. “He was about to kill Dean, even from up in his position. Andy’s trying to tend to Tracy now, but…” she sighed, “she’s terrified of him.”

            “I would be too,” He narrowed his eyes, looking down at her, “if I knew somebody for a long time to discover they had a hellish ability.”

            Emily was being waved over by Andy, who claimed that Tracy wanted to speak to her instead. She jogged over to comply. Meanwhile, Dean trekked back down from his sniper position to meet Sam, whose shoulder and neck were still bleeding.

            “Sam, are you all right?” he asked. “I called in the scene, paramedics should be here soon.”

            “I’ll be fine.” He continued to look at Emily tend to Tracy across the road. “I’m just thinking about some things right now.”

            Andy approached them sadly, trying hard not to look at Weber’s dead body on the ground. He didn’t talk to them, he just sat on the ground near them.

            “Sam…” Dean watched their sister as well. “What the hell happened?”

 

 

**Morning**

        When the ambulances finally arrived, they had begun attending to Tracy first, eventually working their way to Sam. The police gathered around Andy for questioning, which he handled like a champion. He ended up having to use his power, but he was more confident than usual. Emily sat by a wall across from the bridge’s ledge, worn out and tired. She hadn’t been able to talk Tracy off of the ledge, but she was able to comfort her after the fact, which she was proud of. She heard footsteps approach her, and she looked up to see that they belonged to Dean.

            “Mind if I sit, Junior Mint?” he asked.

            “Go ahead.” She nodded.

            He took a seat and grunted, looking at Sam getting treated.

            “You know, you probably saved my tail by shouting at Weber. Tracy’s too.”

            She smiled. “Nah. Andy’s the one who killed him. I just distracted him long enough for that to happen.”

            “Hey…” he nudged her. “Do you have something you want to tell me?”

            She averted his gaze and pulled her knees up, wrapping her arms around them.

            “You told me to report to you if anything else happened with Astaroth…” she pulled her knees to her chest. “I have something to tell you…but I don’t think now is the best time.”

            “Because of Sam’s business?”

            “It would put him in even worse of a mood.”

            Dean looked back over at Sam, who was just about done being stitched up. Andy was still talking to the police.

            “Let’s wait until we’re outta dodge, then we can talk about it as a family. Okay?”

            She nodded. She looked up to see Sam lumbering back over to them, a sour look on his face. Clearly, he was exhausted.

            “Have you been watching this?” he greeted them. “Look. He’s getting better at it.”

            He was referring to Andy, who had just finished his “explanation” to the cops. He was on his way over to the siblings, passing Tracy on the way, who was still evading his gaze. He looked defeated.

            “She won’t even look at me.” He sighed when he approached.

            “She’s pretty shaken up, Andy.” Sam said.

            “No…it isn’t that. I’ve never…used my mind thing on her, not until last night. She’s scared of me now.”

            “I’m sorry.” Emily told him.

            “Hey, Andy, I hate to do this, but um, we have to get out of here.” Sam handed him a slip of paper. “Here. I wrote down my cell. You don't have to be alone in this, all right? If anything comes up, just call me.”

            Emily and Dean stood up, getting ready to leave. Andy looked at them nervously.

            “W-what am I supposed to do now?” he asked them.

            “Be good, Andy.” Dean threatened. “Or we’ll be back.”

            After that, the boys started walking away, muttering to themselves, while their sister remained for a moment.

            “Don’t lose hope.” Emily narrowed her eyes confidently and nodded at him. “If you’re stumbling while holding onto it, never hesitate to talk to me, too.”

            “Right…” he nodded at her. “I’ll hold on.”

            “Em, you coming?” Sam called out.

            “Yea.” She shouted back. “See you Andy.”

            She turned and caught up to her brothers, leaving Andy behind them. They were making their way back up the slope to the Impala.

            “It looks like I was right.” Sam said.

            “About?” she asked.

            “Andy. He’s a killer after all.”

            They were all pushed, Sam explained. Andy may have been pushed to kill by his brother, but Weber was pushed too. Max Miller had been pushed. Sam admitted to being pushed by his girlfriend’s death. Hell, she can admit that she’s been pushed. When pushed to the right limits, anybody was capable was murder, that was his conclusion.

            “That’s what the demon is trying to make you think.” Dean chimed in. “Don’t give him what he wants. We’re going to track down that son of a bitch and kill it.”

            They approached the car and went to enter.

            “Dean, I heard what you said when you were mind controlled, when Andy forced the truth out of you. You’re just as scared of this as I am.” He paused for a moment and looked at his sister. “Speaking of…you weren’t forced to talk then. What stopped you?”

            She rested her hand on the door-handle. “I was hoping to talk to you about that.”

            “Let’s get away from here first.” Dean interjected. “Then we can talk about it.”

            “Do you know what she’s talking about?” Sam had his ‘I’m your brother so naturally I’m fucking worried’ tone in his voice.

            “Relax. I only know she wants to talk to us.” He replied, somewhat irritated.

            “Sam, if you don’t want to, especially after this—” she tried.

            “No.” he took a deep breath. “But let’s do what Dean said and clear our minds a little bit, get something to eat and maybe get a nap in. We’re all exhausted.”

            She was honestly surprised by his response, so surprised she nodded and muttered “yea that sounds good” without thinking about it. They got into the car and took a moment to enjoy sitting and having a moment of solace, without a case, without anything to race toward.

            “Can I ask what it’s about?” Sam asked.

            “Astaroth.” She answered, tilting her head back with her eyes closed.

            Her response was the sound of the Impala starting up, and the sound of the tires crunching on gravel.

 

 

**Mid-Afternoon**

        The decided to stop at a Wendy’s on the highway, it would allow them to eat in privacy and start talking if they decided to. Like usual, Emily got a Dave’s Double, but gave the tomatoes to Sam. She hated tomatoes. Slowly they ate, and eventually they found a pull-off spot by a clearing, surrounded by trees. There was a picnic table and benches, they could talk face to face and eat at the same time. As they stepped out of the car, she stretched and let out a large groan. She made a beeline for the table and immediately pulled out a container of chili cheese fries from her Wendy’s bag.

            “Em, are you gonna eat both portions of those fries?” Dean asked.

            “Why, are you gonna gank me if I do?” she challenged, opening the lid tauntingly.

            “….Maybe.” he squinted, sitting across from her. “But that would be unbrotherly of me, so no.”

            They heard Sam sigh as he sat down next to Dean, burger still wrapped and in hand.

            “Are we ready to talk?” he asked.

            She closed her eyes and reopened them after a deep breath.

            “You both told me to come to you if I experienced anything else with Astaroth. And I told you I would. So…” she cleared her throat after eating another fry. “After the nightmare I started hearing…a voice.”

            “A voice?” Dean asked.

            “It occurred only a little bit before the nightmare, before what I did to make you hate me. Someone responding to my thoughts. Someone telling me what’s on their mind. Someone just…there. I’m usually good at ignoring it. Usually.”

            “I’m going to ignore the part where you didn’t come to us immediately and just ask my next question; what made you decide to tell us about it?” Sam asked.

            “When we were talking to Andy about him being adopted, the voice commented on it. He said “these things only come up when things start to get exciting” or something like that. He was trying to get my attention about something, because he knew it would affect me.”

            “’He’?” Dean rose his eyebrows.

            “I’m not sure but…” she ate a handful of fries. “No. I am sure. It’s Astaroth who’s been talking to me. He’s been trying to get my attention.”

            Sam looked down at the table.

            “And…when we were on the bridge…he started talking to me again.” She poked her fries with another fry. “Like…a conversation.”

            “What do you mean?” Dean asked.

            “I wanted to get over to Tracy before Weber told her to jump. I couldn’t think of any way to reach her in time…but he told me he could protect me. That he _wanted_ to protect me. And that he wanted me to trust him.”

            “Did you?” Sam didn’t look at her.

            “Weber heard Dean in his sniper position.”

            “And you were afraid for his safety. You panicked, stepped forward, and shouted at Weber, right? You needed to make sure that Dean wouldn’t be told to do something like kill himself. Right?”

            “I…”

            “Thought I was unconscious the entire time, right?” Sam looked at her. “I saw what happened. Emily, do you know _what_ exactly I saw?”

            “Sam, what are you talking about?” Dean asked.

            “You got scared. When you stepped forward and shouted, the voice that came out wasn’t yours. At least, not completely. I looked up at you, from that downward angle, and your eyes…” he looked into her green ones. “They were _red,_ Emily.”

            She knew that her voice and power were altered, but she had no idea that Sam, of all people, would see that. THAT. Astaroth took more control of her than she realized.

            “What does this mean?” Dean asked him in a hushed tone.

            She looked down at her shaking fingers as they held lukewarm fries.

            Suddenly, Sam’s phone rang.

            “I think it means we’ll have to finish this later.” He pulled his phone out. “It’s Ellen.”


End file.
